


Fredbear Stockholm (PurpleGuy X Reader)

by Ch3shireW0cky



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 99
Words: 167,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ch3shireW0cky/pseuds/Ch3shireW0cky
Summary: You're like every other angsty teen boy who constantly acts on rebellious urges all while trying to figure life out at the same time. Strange thing is, you've had very unusual occurrences and events plaguing your life since a very young age. Your world gets turned upside down when you're suddenly kidnapped by a shady man dressed in purple when attending your younger sister's birthday party.Despite not seeing yourself as someone worth such a vile obsession, the purple man insists that you're a special kind of possession, but won't reveal exactly why. While you're forced to please every one of his dark fantasies, you begin discovering unimaginable secrets of not only Fazbear, but you yourself.(WARNING; Dark! M/M)





	1. Birthday

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=10dcfvt)

  
**Note: 18+ For every reason!!** **This story gets fairly graphic with strong sexual themes. Very dark. Fair warning.**

**If any of this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.**

**This story will contain flashbacks. Just so there's no confusion.**

**~Do _NOT_ thief, copy, or repost!~**

**FNAF characters rightfully belong to Scott Cawthon, not me. The other games and characters belong to _their_ owners.**

**Lastly, please be respectful. I worked _very_ hard on all of this.**

**Now that this is finally out of the way, please ENJOY!**

~~~

 

* * *

 

* * *

(I strongly encourage you to read the note at the very bottom before starting on this story; It may help.)

 

The day was immensely bright with no visible clouds. Even behind the vehicle's windows the solar light still drilled into your pores until you thought your skin was going to sizzle, evaporating all positivity. Weather usually didn't influence your mood so powerfully, but with how life has been for the passed several years stress and confusion was taking its toll. This particular day was only an add-on.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria.

You were on your way to a children's restaurant with your family in honor to celebrate your annoying eight year-old sister's birthday. Well now she would be nine, and you didn't like being constantly reminded about it like she was some special snowflake.

You certainly wouldn't be coming to a place like this when _your_ birthday rolled around here soon...

Only upside to today was that your parents had pulled you out of school for the day so Fazbear's wouldn't be crowded—It was popular among the youth, after all. But little by little you began regretting not staying in class despite the fact that school was playing a part in your stress and tension. 

You've been plagued with odd events for the past number of years; dreams, incidences, and you were pondering on if anything serious actually happened that you, for some reason, couldn't remember. Just yesterday you were getting ready to leave a class when the teacher intervened. 

"I'm just worried 'bout you. You seem...paranoid. Down. Very outta it. Stop me if I get it." They explained, making your gut knot. They surely weren't somebody you expected to take notice and ask. 

"No. I mean...I'm okay. Seriously." You had said.

You were a little appreciative to be honest, but you never liked someone trying to intrude on your personal life, especially if it was a teacher.

"Well you know you can always tell me if there's something wrong, right? If you need anyone to listen and help." 

"Yeah, I know."

Last thing heard from them was being wished a good day and to remember that you could always go to them for help.

 _Sure thing_ , was your last thought on it.

Looking back on this conversation gave another upside to skipping the day for your sister's birthday. There was the idea your teacher would prod the question again had you gone to class today. So with that peeve out of mind you put focus on something else to drain out your sister's noises.

With no creative thoughts you did the most simple thing; you criticized your own wardrobe, self-loath washing over. There was never the luxury of picking out fashion you wanted. It wasn't anything major; you simply wanted jeans that weren't so damn baggy on you. And if other wishes came true, you'd sport shirts of your favorite bands.

That wouldn't be happening either.

Only "normal" clothes were allowed. Anything remotely seen as dark or rebellious was out of the question. Your folks were what many may have called bible thumpers. What they _did_ allow was for you to grow out your hair. A little. It got sheered off when getting too long, which was about passed your eyes. You had ideas of dying it, but it was wishful thinking. It must stay its regular, boring **[Hair Color]** color.

_Lame..._

A lesser struggle to deal with was not being the strongest person in your school—one could say you  **had** the fit for skinnier apparel. An upside is that you were in possession of steel-toes, gifted incase labor assistance was needed at home, quite handy when forced into a petty school brawl, also.

Your gloom was interrupted when your sister scooted herself closer to your side of the seat and began touching your face.

"What's wrong, **[First Name]**? Don't you want pizza?" She used her fingers to try forcing your mouth into a smile.

Already feeling testy, the last thing you wanted touching—especially on your face—was her grubby little hands. Without enough room to pull away, you resorted to pushing her off almost violently. It might've been harsh but she was all too used to the rough behavior by now.

"Get off me." You growled.

Before she could retaliate (which she usually would) your family finally reached their destination, capturing her short attention span. The obnoxiously painted building was nothing more than an eye sore.

You were first to get out—anything to get away from the squealing girl. She too wasted no time in hopping out her seat and began bouncing in jubilance. Your father picked her up and carried her on his shoulders while walking toward the building. Your mother stayed behind to gather the gifts. _You_ stayed by the car, hopelessly waiting for your wish of not having to enter that God-forsaken building to be magically granted.

 _A fire? A meteor that crashes on top of it? ANYTHING?_  

" **[First Name]?** " You heard your mother's soft, sweet voice.

You turned your head slightly.

"Can you help me out here? I only have two hands..." She asked politely. A hot sigh conjured from your chest, but nothing verbal came out. You finally moved, coming to her aid. You couldn't help but count how many bags of presents there were for your "precious" sister.

 _Four....six...eight........_ **Twelve**?! _What the hell makes HER so special?_

"Any reason why she gets an ass load of gifts this year?" You asked with as much forced calmness as you could possibly manage.

"I don't like that language, **[First Name]**." 

"Alright. Sorry. But are you gonna answer my question?" 

"No. Stop worrying over it." She had her own forced calmness, but was dangerously close to putting you back in your place.

"Anyways, what do you need me to carry?" 

"Just this box. I can manage the gift bags." She answered, putting a large white box onto your arms.

_Fuck, it was rather heavy..._

"The hell is in here?!" 

"What did I just s—"

"SORRY." 

"It's the cake." 

"Why does she need one this big?" You asked. What small girl like Kayla needed this much sugar?

"Your grandparents and aunt and uncle are coming, remember? They like taking home a few extra portions." She explained.

Your eyes rolled, forgetting about the other members of the family that were soon to arrive.

"Dreams really do come true." You flashed aggressive sarcasm, too quiet to be heard.

Your mother was always a patient woman, but for the past couple of years you've been testing it. Perhaps it was because you were beginning to hate things you used to love and love things you used to hate, or new thoughts and desires were erupting as you got older. _She_ personally thought it had to do with hormones.

However, she was blissfully unaware of what you've been going through almost your entire life. One would think you would've shown concerning signs ages ago, but it turns out sometimes things just don't hit a person until years later. Maybe it could've been dealt with if your parents were aware, but you've been keeping these things to yourself. You guessed the issues would disappear on their own if you just muscled through it and not make things worse.

It was tough to admit, but you used to love Freddy's back when you were your sister's age. Yes, there were fun memories here, but now you were almost sixteen and your self-consciousness had flown through the damn roof. If anything looked remotely uncool you were a bundle of stress and irritation. This was a place for **children** , not teenagers!

The nightmarish fantasy flashed in your head and the thought of being seen by somebody you knew from school sent a cringe fest. You bit your lip until smelling the delicious contents of the box in your hands, and your vulgar thoughts instantly subsided. 

Being a growing teen, hunger was a creature of its own and sweets was the weakness to just about every kid, even young adults. You now fantasized about consuming the pastry while entering the almost-chilly building. You instantly sprouted gooseflesh.

A huge, unwelcome wave of nostalgia washed over like a wave as your eyes fell upon the arcade games and stage. The stage curtains were shut but you knew the animatronics were behind them. You heard laughter of other younger children, and your spine stiffened.

_Were you the oldest kid here?_

With your ego painfully deflating you wanted to drop the box and simply vanish from existence. You didn't realize your father had taken it from you until both arms felt lighter, making your temperamental mind scramble to refocus.

"Hey there! Is this the birthday girl?!" Went an overly-enthusiastic voice. 

You glanced over and saw a tall young(ish) man high-fiving your spastic sister. He was wearing a dark purple shirt and matching pants, looking casual. It was an interesting uniform color. No doubt he worked here, but his appearance slightly differed from the other employees.

Actually, it differed by a lot.

You could feel his clout in the air. He must've been in management... You scanned his hair next. The length of the bangs grazed over his eyes a bit. The back was longer and held by a weak pony-tail. You very much liked the style of it.

 _You_ wished _you could grow yours out that much._

This admiration reminded you of your hair-length "limits", making a glower grow and your mood sink even further. All grumbling halted when noticing his sights were on you _,_ and he was now coming this way. There was no need to kneel to speak with you, but he still had a height advantage.

You were tall, he was taller.

"Ahhh, and what's  _your_ name?" His voice was on the deeper side when he wasn't forcing a pitch.

"Uh...my name?..." You sounded almost slow, but your mouth felt like jelly and your body was hot. It felt like you were about to read a written paper aloud to the front of a classroom, every student's worst nightmare. 

"It's **[Full Name]**." You tried not to stutter, your eyes didn't leave his. They seemed dark with an interesting zeal, but it didn't faze you.

"That's pretty awesome—cool. Just as cool as you." He said with a deeper tone as he held out a fist for you to bump.

You accepted the offer of peace, feeling awkward since you weren't a little kid who admired fist bumps from adults.

You expected him to go back to your sister, until his other hand reach up and grabbed a bit of your growing hair. He pulled gently on a long bang, as if to stroke it.

_Why was he touching it in the first place?_

" **[Hair Color]**. I've always liked that color." He stated, tone chilling. After a few seconds of harassing the one lock in his fingers he suddenly ceased, releasing and acting like you weren't even there. He turned his attention to your parents, who hadn't seen the strange actions.

"Alright folks **,**  we'll have your host out soon! I'll give you all a bit more time until the rest of your guests arrive." He smiled and your parents thanked him before he disappeared.

Forgetting about the other relatives, your mood delved even lower. You suddenly heard the squeaking of your sister's voice.

"You aren't supposed to give out your whole name like that! Remember what school taught you about stranger danger?"

You gazed down to meet her bulgy eyes.

"He isn't a stranger. He WORKS here. Don't you think if he was bad he wouldn't be here, you dimwit?!" You snapped. 

She blinked, but wasn't upset.

"You should be more nice to me. I miss you being nice...before your body got weird." She giggled in a high voice and ran back to the adults.

You almost blushed at this and felt like strangling her, but the irritation was once again interrupted by the stage curtains opening, revealing Freddy and Bonnie and Chica. There was a deep shame to have known them by name.

**Hey everyone! It's time to start the show!**

Freddy spoke, triggering all the kids here (including your sister) to yell in excitement and swarm the stage. Your parents and several other adults followed their kids to take pictures.

Embarrassment was surpassed. You couldn't stand to be around such frivolity, your dignity and maturity were too high for that—at least _you_ thought so _._ You dug into your mind for a quick idea to get away from all of this for a short period of time.

 _Bathroom?_  ...No! Last thing you wanted was to stand in there awkwardly and listen to someone else go. Another idea came and you kept your eyes on the family of fools for a moment before studying the building, mentally noting where everything was. They certainly wouldn't notice if you took a break outside for a few minutes...

When a final decision came, you headed for the exits. You weren't a  _huge_ rebel, but you were very intrepid and audacious. There were some bad habits your parents would kill you for if they knew about them.

You felt around in a pocket and found the cigarette being hidden. You obviously knew the general public didn't care for a smoking teen, but it wouldn't be allowed in a children's restaurant, so boldness took you to the back corner of the building where no one was. Only a lone car, but there was no one inside. The color was something you weren't used to seeing on an every day vehicle.

Purple.

 _Why would someone pick_ that _for a coat?_ You wondered while staring at it.

Something similar to an alarm went off in you, but it wasn't quite strong enough to make you think twice.

Why would a car make you feel uneasy, anyway?

You ceased the jitters by taking out the other stored item; a lighter with little fluid left, but just enough. After a few flickering attempts you were soon enjoying the cancer stick.

Feeling serene at last, you took your time and scrutinized this particular area. 

It must've been where the employees took their breaks and do exactly what you were doing here. There were dumpsters on the far end, but luckily you weren't close enough to smell the concoction of rotten unfinished food and spoiled soda decaying inside.

The filthy habit of smoking was picked up from friends—the stereotypical reason of trying to look cool or tuff...to make up for your lack of a built body. If you couldn't impress anyone with sheer strength looking older and cooler with smoking would do.

Each puff calmed your nerves, but they were about to be tested once more:

The sound of door being opened interrupted the quiet break.

_Of course the building had a back door!_

You waited for an employee to start griping and ask where your parents were and that you couldn't be here. You prepared to toss the cigarette and flip off the possibly bitchy staff member and chew the gum you had brought to mask your breath. You shifted positions and kept your eyes forward, not wanting to be the first one to make eye contact. For about thirty seconds there was nothing said, just a strange silence.

_So were they going to call you out or not?_

Did they even see you?

Did they even care?

As the cringing seconds passed it seemed more like this employee didn't give two shits that you were out here smoking in an area meant for staff only.

"Helloooo there, handsome one! Why are you alone?"

You most definitely weren't prepared for **this**...

Your head sharply turned to where the voice was, and there stood another Freddy, feet away. Only this one was mobile and yellow. Your eyes scanned the thing, noticing small, dark stains on various parts of the suit. It was definitely a relic that's been in this building since day one.

The fact the nasty thing had yet to be thrown out and replaced made your innards squirm. You hoped they at least cleaned it, especially the insides, but the visible stains were telling you otherwise. Its right hand held the eminent microphone while the other held a—

actually you couldn't really tell, but it looked like a glass bottle; perhaps one of the soda pops.

_So this person is having a refreshment break?_

You assumed so. 

With the inspection out the way, you weren't in any mood to be treated like a kid.

"Who are you?" You asked the bear, holding off your attitude while testing the cocooned employee inside, seeing if they would continue their "cute" act...

"Why I'm Freddy! But I'm golden!" 

"Yeah, save that shit for some gullible lil kid, dude." Your temper rattled.

The Fredbear didn't move an inch. He was like a golden statue in tableau. You blew out another small cloud and tore your eyes to the sharp corners of your vision. You refused to actually move your head and give the dirty thing more undivided attention.

 _Why wouldn't the freaky fucker LEAVE already?!_ You thought, eyes becoming a little sore. You just wanted something to happen other than being gawked at. Unfortunately, it was becoming evident that the large thing knew you were spying.

"So how old are you?" The bear asked his next question.

"Almost sixteen and too old for this shit." You found the tolerance to answer, tapping your cigarette and causing a bit of ash to fall from the burning end.

"But still too young to be smoking!" He responded candidly.

It made a nerve break.

You stood up near the bear and took a long inhale of the cigarette. You casually blew out the large, dragon-cloud of smoke toward the face of the suit.

"What was that? I thought I was talking to _Freddy_ the bear, not Smokey the bear." You sneered, feeling cocky over the clever rudeness.

" **Fazbear**." It replied, but not in an artless voice. It sounded low and normal...and eerily familiar.

"Uhm...wut?" You asked, slightly creeped out.

More goosebumps formed on your arms despite the hot temperature. You...actually began to feel uncomfortable and now thought about rejoining your folks, who still had no idea about the absence.

"You're the oldest here, aren't you? I'm sure you don't want to hang around with the little kids. Want me to show you the big kids room? It's MUCH better!" The bear asked enthusiastically.

You snickered.

"No thanks. I'm good." You shot down fast and took another puff of the cigarette that was almost finished.

"But it's FUN! And between you and me, if you ask the right people, you can have alcohol too." The bear exhorted again with an offer now tempting.

"Like _beer_?" You looked up.

"Of course! The best kind of alcohol!" The bear responded and held up its left arm. The bottle tucked away in his hand had been alcohol this whole time, and he was giving it to **you**.

_Freddy Fazbear was offering you booze!_

Now THIS was a story you had no problem telling at school...Hell, you'd boast about it.

"BadASS!" You said and took the bottle from him before putting out the cancer stick. You didn't even waste time in just sipping it. You guzzled it down, perhaps to show the bear you weren't a pansy, delicate drinker.

_You were just as tough as any grown up!_

"So where is this 'big kid' room again?" You asked, hinting you changed your mind on the offer. For the first time today you were wearing a smile.

"This way! Follow me back in!" The bear replied as he headed back through the door he came from.

You were too old to not know that you shouldn't go with strangers, but what was the damage? This was a kids place. You were certain security was strict, and this guy was awesome for sharing booze.

You re-entered the building and picked up the infamous smells of burning pizza and grease all the way down to light pastry scents. The bear lead you through a dark hallway that seemed very questionable, but this wasn't on your mind. You were too hooked on getting drunk at a kid's restaurant. But as you looked around and saw vibrant drawn pictures of characters, a heavy feeling hit your head like an anvil. Within seconds you were almost slumped on the wall and struggling to simply stand. It was all at once, to where you didn't even have the time to stop and think there was something terribly wrong.

"Hold up, dude...I don't feel ...right." Was all you could get out while trying to call to the yellow Freddy.

"But we're already here!" The bear responded, but it was once again in the deep familiar voice you heard him slip outside. 

Your vision blurred as he opened a door. You swore he had pushed you in the unknown room, but you were too unaware to confirm this—you had blacked out before seeing anything else.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Author's note:

Okay, I've had a bunch of questions and confusion as to why this is written the way it is. So I've decided to put it all here;

Q: "Why does the character have a family/sister? It's weird and I'm not used to reading something like that."

 **A**. It's just a unique way of writing. I originally didn't want to put names or a family at all, but the mountains of "He said/ She said" was getting to be crazy and distasteful. Plus I needed a background for the character. It'll make more sense down the road into the story. But seriously, if you can't pretend to have a fictional family or friends, then just don't read if imagination is that difficult for you.

Q: "Why is the story so in depth with details and background?"

 **A** : Because I didn't want to write a typical hit it & quit it story when it comes to slash. I wanted there to be an actual story line to go with it.

Q: "Really? You did this with FNAF characters? _REALLY_?"

 **A** : I don't see what's so wrong with it. I can understand why there's so much hate generated toward the FNAF world (especially FF) due to all the silly stuff that the typical 10-year old fans come up with, but I've clearly stated that this is for an older audience. And like I've said numerous times, if you don't like the idea, DON'T READ! This is solely based on the first lore of the original 3 games, when it was incredibly dark.  Jokes on the purple guy and toast-lover thrown out the window.


	2. The purple guy

Slow in stirring back awake, your head was dizzy and you couldn't keep vision straight for a moment. All other senses only came back half than what they normally were. Your vision rocked every other second, like you were on some boat out at sea. You blinked extra hard once or twice but it wasn't doing the trick, so you shook your head as a last resort. It seemed to only make things worse.

You settled on dealing with seasick vision while trying to recognize where you were.

There were walls, tiled floor, _arcade machines_?

But this place didn't have a "game room" feel. It was definitely—

Some  _back_ room?

That's the only idea you could come up with since it greatly reminded you of the school's janitor closet.

_So what the fuck happened?!_

The last twelve hours might as well have been bleached from your mind. As far as you knew, anything could've went on before this...

Panicked ideas of what may have put you in this position assailed your mind and you coerced yourself into moving the rest of your body to start getting to your feet. There was only a second of mad movement before realizing—

_You were fucking tied!_

Your wrists at least, and they were behind your back.

Your sick eye sight caused every object in the room to change in size, growing and shrinking like it was mutated and breathing. The lighting in here was dim and looked to be only half-lit with the other side of the room showing no light support. Even with senses not working up to full percentage, the tapestry of thick smells combined with transmogrified vision was becoming overwhelming. The predominant scent was bleach amongst other chemicals that spelled a serious recent cleaning. The rest withered down to the delicate fragrances of water and weak mold and—

Your eyes fell onto something else.

You were rescanning the random arcade machines sitting side-by-side each other in the middle of the room. None of them looked broken or worn out, so it was very out of place for them to be sitting idle in here. Their decor is what re-awoke your numb memory. All had Fazbear designs.

_FAZBEAR!_

Now everything was coming back; Kayla's ninth birthday, the restaurant, the smoke break, the _gold bear!_

You audibly gasped, instantly choking on saliva and triggering a mild coughing fit. By the time everything in your windpipe expelled, the metallic noise of jingling keys danced excitedly from across the room, followed by footsteps. You weakly turned your head and saw...the guy in purple uniform coming out of the shadows. Your defective sight skewed his image, making him look even more unsettling than he already was. In his arms was a vibrant bucket.

_For what?_

"Ahh you're awake. How are you feeling?" He asked with a pleasant amount of rasp woven into his voice and smiling, as if there was nothing wrong with the scene before him.

The urge to swear at him and demand to know what was happening was strong, but a sprung up feeling of horrible sickness was even stronger, and it wasn't your head that gave the most trouble. The drug in the bottle he had given you began to take its second effect.

Your stomach was more than just a little upset. A faint groan turned into a cringe as you knew what was about to come next, and so did the man feet away. His smile slumped to a dull expression. He carelessly let go of the bucket he had been carrying and kicked it, sending it skidding to your side perfectly. It was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing, and was prepared for every step...

With no where else to purge your roaring innards, you leaned to the provided bucket and hurled, spewing until there was nothing left. Once it was finally over you attempted to sit back up in a proper position, but your shoulders were unable to support your heavy cranium again. Gravity pulled, and like a falling tower, your body collapsed with your head striking the floor hard.

* * *

 

Water filled your nostrils and you jerked back awake, memory staying intact this time. You were now in some dark corner of the room with your clothes completely wet and chilled to the bone. More water splashed on your face and slowly came the realization that the man was spraying you with a nozzle coming from out the wall. When noticing you were back from the fainted slumber, he turned it off and forcefully sat you back up, ignoring your coughing.

He pushed away wet hair and examined you, as if looking for possible flaws. His grim eyes and features were no different than when first meeting him with your parents. Now you were soaking wet and shivering and had a dull pain near the side of your head.

"Please stop doing that." He asked with a dull voice, requesting the hard hacking cease.

_Like you had a Goddamn choice!_

Your entire body was sore and weakened, and he might've been aware of this as both your hands were now free, but you couldn't pound a single fist into him even if you tried. The front of your head must've been a little damaged from the previous fall, considering there was a trickle of blood running down your forehead. You were ignorant of this until it trailed down to the bridge of your nose.

"Looks like you hurt yourself worse than expected. It's okay though. I'll clean that off." The man said with a temperament of absolute calmness. This was when you finally picked up your vocals.

"The fuck did you do to me?! Where the hell am I?!" You hollered, the volume not bothering him in the slightest. He sat up and moved away, grabbing a rag from the floor before returning. With only so much strength, you threw your head back and away from him.

"Fuck away from me!" You warned.

He wouldn't be tolerating the resistance for much longer. Like a praying mantis, his hand shot out and grabbed your chin aggressively. He pulled you back and began rubbing off the trail of crimson. You cringed in pain from both the rough rag and his fingers pressing hard into your jaw bone. He finally let go when no more blood was present.

"There we go! Perfection!" He looked all too excited, and insane.

He wasn't aware that you could be _very_ hot-headed.

You gathered moisture and spat hard.

" _Fuck off!_ " You hollered in his face. If you couldn't use muscles for help, you'd rely on scare tactics instead, like any other trapped creature.

But you were beating a dead horse. The man had closed his eyes before your saliva slapped him in the lower part of his forehead (and a bit on the nose). He remained calm, using the rag to wipe it off, and sighed hard.

"Alright...if that's how you're going to be..." He stated with utter disappointment while standing back up and moving away again. He grabbed something hidden by the shadows. You could hardly tell what it was until he returned.

It was...

—a collar?

He immediately snapped it around your weak neck.

_Why the fuck did he put a collar on you?_

He folded his arms and stared down, as if silently scolding a young child.

You struggled but eventually made it to standing on your feet as to face him properly, though you quivered greatly and just looked completely pathetic.

"FU—" Your word was immediately cut off by a painful yell as several volts of electricity passed through your skin and into the tendons. It hurt to the point where you lost all balance and hit the cold wet floor again.

_A fucking shock collar._

He forced on a shock collar like you were some animal, and it didn't look like a simple harmless one that went on a canine; It seemed hand-crafted and there was no telling how far it could go in power and damage.

With the side of your face on the wet floor, you groaned from the lingering pain that seemed to trail on, but kept volume on a low in fear of setting off the voltage again. While completely immobilized for over a minute, the man bent down and fastened something else...

"Just in case you get handsy..." He said calmly, as if explaining simple instructions to a confused elderly woman. He had put a small chain and lock around the buckle of the collar.

Now only  **he** would have the ability to remove it.

You stayed on the floor, breathing hard. Too much was happening, not enough was happening. Your brain struggled to focus on a single emotion or action that would benefit you or be a proper response in all this, but...you were just in shock; quite literally. You couldn't come up with anything, not even to panic.

Then came the most wonderful sound one could hear in the world, a sound you thought would never bring you good fortune; Sirens... _police sirens_!

Your face flushed, pulling you out of the paralyzed state.

_You were going to be rescued._

The man peered at another corner of the room. You saw annoyance enter his face, but it still lacked fear. If anything it was mostly vexation coming off him, but he was without concern.

"They're gonna find me...you might as well let me go..." You whispered loudly in-between deep breaths.

However, fear was the one to strike **you** when seeing a shadow-grin touch his face as he slowly turned back. Never did you think something as simple as a person's smirk would put nightmares into your conscience. You didn't have to be telepathic to guess what was going through his head:

_Wanna bet? You won't be found, kid. You better get used to this place!_

He wasn't even speaking, yet you felt the descending pain of being horribly mocked, and the domination he gave off was enough to where there might as well be  **ten** people in here, staring at your pathetic soggy pile of a body.

"Please...just let me go. I won't tell them it was you, I _swear_..."

Tears of defeat finally filled your eyes as you became desperate to bargain with this crazed being. The last shred of your dignity was ripped off. You, a thick-skinned teen male, was reduced to a crying, weak child. You were beating another dead horse as none of this moved the man standing over you.

Although your miniature sobs weren't audible and only consisted of silent drops leaving your eyes, it was no different. Your last wall protecting all emotions and pride had been broken and trampled on.

"This won't take long. I'll be back soon." He stated, and you found yourself believing him.

You believed he would easily confuse law enforcement and, in some unknown way, convince them that he and the restaurant were completely innocent of any crimes, and the search for you would end there.

"Don't move."

He left you sprawled on the wet floor and gave that two-word order. There was a violent sparkle in his shadowy eyes, and you immediately obeyed him, keeping grounded to the spot as if your life depended on it. Keys jingling, he left, and you watched until he was invisible in the dark. You heard a door unlock and open and close, then lock again.

Now you were alone completely. 

_This was a whole new Goddamn extent of defeat._

You were utterly helpless in attracting attention from anyone outside of this room.

You silently wept until you ended up putting yourself to sleep from sheer exhaustion. 


	3. Explore

A not-so pleasant dosage of deja vu invaded. You were in the same dim chamber. Both your palms slid onto the cold floor and you slowly pushed yourself back up, muscles having regained a bit of strength, but you were still running off practically empty. You got to your knees and waited for all blood circulation to return.

You were rather unflustered and absent of any dread, though you certainly did not forget about how close you came to being rescued. Was it because survival mode kicked in?

Who knew _._

But it was definitely a big help when trying to figure out this situation.

You were a soggy wreck. Partially; your clothes were dingy. Water was never too kind on fabric material when not dried properly, and it caused your clothes to become wrinkled and stretched and slightly torn. However, this was the least of worries. There was still a device around your neck. It was a far stretch but you attempted to squeeze a finger between the chains and perhaps use a nail to fiddle with the key-hole, and _maybe_ it would be enough to unlock it.

For the efforts you were rewarded with a broken nail and a cut finger.

_So much for that..._

You gave up on removing the dignity-reducing device... As if you weren't degraded enough already.

After the pain subsided you scanned the ominous room again. A solution **had** to be figured out, it did no good to just be sitting in wait for someone else to show up.

 _Speaking of..._ There was no sign of the man, which seemed illogical since he said he'd return after dealing with law enforcement. Whether that was still taking place or not you focused on the two most important things; you weren't bound and you were alone. It was a chance to explore and see if anything could aid in escape.

You summoned the energy to get standing, multiple joints cracking from stiffness. Perhaps this next situation had to do with the drug not completely leaving your system yet, but the dim lights were strangely vibrant.

Enhanced.

_Impossibly enhanced._

You staggered in the direction where the man had exited. With your eyes adjusting you came across a doorknob—the lever handle type. You placed a hand on the metal and gave a jiggle, realizing there wasn't a forced boundary to deny access.

_Unlocked!_

It was oddly heavy and took a light burn of your muscles to pull open. Your eyes greeted darkness and you heard no sounds, signaling the place was closed. For a second you wondered if you were the only one in the entire building, but this theory was dismissed after some thinking. The man wouldn't leave the door unlocked so you could just easily work your way out—

A flashing memory interrupted; you remembered the door  **had** been locked when he left to confront the police. You had _heard_ it! So did this mean...

Did he stick to his promise and come back while you were out?

The thought of him standing over while you slept sent a chill through your already cold body.

 _No...no, he probably just unlocked the door for when you woke up_.

You compelled yourself to believe this instead.

_Onward._

You met the dark, using memory as guidance, knowing this part of the restaurant was the hallway the yellow bear lead you through. After several cautious steps you finally saw a glow. 

It was from the active arcade machines, blinking their lights in a vibrant rhythm around their inactive black screens. Unfortunately, they were the only light source available in the building but it was enough to illuminate the surroundings decently, helping your pupils adjust.

They seemed to take in _too_ much light; the restaurant was able to be made out and everything appeared enhanced and close to unreal. Your sight landed on the dining tables that were cleaned and neatly decorated for the next party. The cone hats were lined up and the table covers were sprinkled delicately with shiny confetti. The colors were hypnotizing and you instantly became attracted to the intoxicating decor.

You slid over to the tables and inspected the shiny, swirly-patterned toppers like some little kid who's never seen the stupid things before. Another detail that had you in awe was how clean everything was. You had to admit the crew here did a hell of a good job.

This was the first time in getting a good look at this place in comparison to when  _you_ were little and loved visiting. There were many differences now, such as the arcade games, and you could actually imagine how much more fun it would've been if this stuff was here back in your days. The only things to stay the same these past years were the animatronics. The memory of  _those_ guys had you peering at the main stage.

To this day they looked vintage and almost dangerous. Only older. The suit parts had bits and chunks missing, as if someone had bitten pieces off. It was odd that the restaurant appeared new and neat but the animatronics looked...withered.

Could they not get new ones or repair them?

They obviously still entertained the young kids, so you guessed it didn't matter. As long as the guests were happy, right?

With your mind lost in fascination, you made your way to the dark stage. The urge to pull away the curtains charmed vigorously, but there was a sudden fear for an entirely new reason.

Were you really afraid of the animatronics?

_Get a fucking grip, **[First Name]**! They're just robots! _

You cursed yourself for feeling cowardly towards harmless characters. Besides, you had always wanted to do this when you were a kid...

You pulled yourself up on stage. A run and leap would've done the job better, but you were too wobbly to risk a bad fall.  
  
The stage was smooth but also a bit slick, making you wonder how the animatronics were able to stay stationary. The curtains swayed from the air conditioning, and you reached out to grab the one on the right, pulling it back enough to where Chica and part of Freddy were visible. It looked...sinister. Their bodies were hunched over a bit at the waist, their arms hung. Their eyes weren't closed, which slightly freaked you out, and there seemed to be a small light far back into the pupils.

If any of them actually disturbed you the most it was Chica. Chica was just...weird. Her beak seemed too large for her, the bottom part looking disproportionate to her mouth. Her eyes were also a bit sunken in, like she was rotting from the inside out.

 _She probably was._ You thought. You knew Chica was meant to be female but she was just all out hideous. Her bib that yelled LET'S EAT!!! looked as dingy as your damp clothes.

You let the curtain fall back and carried on to pulling the left, allowing a better view of Freddy. The sight of his mouth made a flashback run through your mind. When you were younger you remembered a kid talking about how another child's head was crushed by Freddy's jaws, but as far as everyone knew that was just an old rumor. 

You were more than convinced this was mostly just from a kid's wild imagination in hopes to put fear of the animatronics in others. Besides, how could a child get their head in Freddy's mouth when they were barely tall enough to reach and touch the microphone in his hand?

You disregarded the miniature legend and peered over at Pirate Cove, whose curtains were also closed.

Foxy.

Foxy was a personal favorite for just about every fan, including you. Hopping off the stage and barely sticking the landing, you made it over to the fox's territory, pulling yourself onto Pirate Cove and pushing aside part of the curtains and exposing the character.

He looked just as pathetic as the others, slumped over in a depressing manner, eyes open. Technically only _one_ was. The other was covered by his patch. You actually wondered if he even bore a second eye or just the covering.

You boldly flipped up the patch, revealing his second eye.

 _So he_ did _have both._

They also shared the same faint endoskeleton light deep within. This encouraged you to check his mouth. You carefully pushed him back to where he was standing up. Sort of. You tapped on his fangs. They were metallic and absolutely sharp.

_These fuckers could really do some damage if a child got their hand caught in this..._

Now you could confirm they were made of metal and not something to fuck around with. Then it jumped out;

_How is it that they got away with installing an animatronic with dangerous parts and WHY??_

There was no reason as to why the fox needed practically  **real** fangs.

You inspected the rest of his body, seeing the large tears in his suit and absolutely no legs other than the legs of the endoskeleton. But maybe...it was supposed to be this way? He  _was_ a pirate and pirates were usually rough-looking. Though now that you remembered far back, Foxy didn't always have lacerations on him. He actually even had a tail at one point, and kids would always try pulling it while he did his act. 

Your attention went to the fox's hook, which was clearly made of the same material as his fangs. Foxy was so dangerous, it's amazing no one's gotten hurt...

You shook the hook, the animatronic's arm easily moving up and down and making you snicker through an open smile with immature excitement. All humor was killed after noticing something off; Foxy was standing up partially on his own without any extra support.

This was when a soft noise was heard from behind. Turning back around, you saw the larger stage slowly opening like it usually did when a show was about to start, but it wasn't the band that caught you off guard.

**AAAARRRRRRGHH!**

The animatronic you were standing next to suddenly went off. Its voice drove red hot irons of fear and surprise through every nerve. You yelled from fear and uttered a thick wince when feeling a physical pain around your neck. You had triggered the collar and it caused your muscles to nearly lock up, making you tumble off the small stage and land hard on the floor.

_Triple blow..._

In account of minor humiliation, you were also forced back into cruel reality that you needed to get the hell out of here while still free.

**Hello everyone!**

**Hello boys and girls!**

**Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!**

**Yaaarrr! Ye be in the Pirate Cove! Ye are all now part of Foxy's pirate crew!**

All the animatronics were going off, bringing a mixed cadence into the still darkness of the restaurant. The stage lights turned on, aiding powerfully in seeing exactly where the exits were. Not wasting another precious moment, your tired body pushed into a run, meeting the closed entrance doors. They were locked, which was to be expected, but out of desperation you still tried pushing on them before pounding hard on the glass with both fists until they were numb.

_You were no match for this..._

You needed more. A larger object.

_The chairs...one of the party chairs could do the trick._

Your heart backflipped with renewed resolution as you bolted back to the tables...only to run into a living barrier.

The man...the fucking _purple_ man!

He caught with brute strength and wrestled you with no effort to a complete halt. Your adrenaline was still high despite this new (and most likely impossible) obstacle.

"Get off me, you bastard..." You growled, careful not to yell before feeling a new pain on your shoulder. It wasn't electricity this time; it was the prick of a needle. And within seconds your struggles lessened, and your consciousness drifted away. 

 


	4. Dependent

Waking back up in the dim room again—an insane cycle.

Your neck ached and you could barely move it in a certain angle, but it wasn't necessary. You already saw who was accompanying you.

The man was standing clearly in front of you, sparing the dreadful wait on whenever he'd reappear. When the rest of your feeling woke up you noticed both your hands were once again tied behind your back, but they weren't the only ones with rope this time. Your legs were also wrapped by the itchy material and—

... _Oh Christ..._

you were sitting in a smooth blue chair; one of the party chairs, but larger than most as it was meant to be the birthday kid's throne.

The man had his arms half folded, one partially raised to his ear he was calmly scratching with two fingers. In that same hand was what looked to be an open ended wrench. Why he had it was beyond your knowledge, but you were very much hoping it was only to be used for just mechanics and not something else.

He did a trio of facial changes, all within seconds when you got to making eye contact, which was difficult in itself with your sight being veiled by your long bangs. He had been smirking for God knows how long when you were stirring awake. By the time you opened your eyes and made him out, the smirk stretched to a warm smile, then fell to a disappointed scowl.

"It's funny." He was first to break the awkward silence after deciding you were alert enough, all while walking in circles which must've been helping his train of thought.

"I had actually debated with myself on if I should let you roam free hours ago... or not. I **should**  because you needed a de-stress, but I **shouldn't** because you just...might..get a liiittle too over-zealous with the urge to try and answer freedom's call staring you right in the face. And WHAT DO YOU KNOW? My hypothesis was correct! But hey, I don't blame you. We're still new at this, and..." He took a step and leaned in close. The whites of his eyes seemed to have no imperfections of veins or blood vessels. Just white. It was like peering into realistic doll's eyes that were ideal, though there was nothing delicate and fragile about this man or the glassy reflective orbs resting in his facial sockets. His irises were so dark that they may as well have been two very large pupils.

"Those front doors are pretty tempting, aren't they? Large, convenient, and just... **there**..." He tapped his thumb on the tool's edge he was tightly gripping. You defensively pulled back into the chair away from him, though not very far.

 _Don't use that thing...talk all you want, just don't use it!_  You begged silently.

He pulled his own head away and stepped back, but his eyes stayed like daggers on yours, seeming closer than ever. He remained in an uncanny frozen state. You thought you were about to go mad until his muscles started moving again, the first set being his mouth that curled into another twisted grin.

"But...I must say, it was fun seeing you scared when I activated those stages. Ohhhh, how you looked so afraid...It's always fun seeing the tough guys crumble. They always crumble so easily."

He invited himself into your personal space again, his voice more perverted than ever. He put his empty hand to you and began stroking the side of your face that bore the new visible rug burn, earned when you had painfully descended from Foxy's stage. It wasn't big but it wasn't any less unpleasant. The irritation around it had disappeared but the worst part was a good pinkish red scratch, settling right below your eye on the cheek bone.

"We'll have to do something about _that_ , now won't we? Injuries aren't any fun." He mocked.

"How 'bout you do something about this fucking dog collar?" You pushed passed your nervousness, targeting the condemning thing around your neck.

"Tsk. Aww, but it's important to keep that on you right now. I still can't trust you just yet. And you only just gave me a reason to forbid any exploring in the near future." He explained pitifully yet teasingly while stroking your face with his knuckle.

You jerked to the side, enduring the pinch in your neck muscles, all to free yourself from his touch. When he took his hand back and folded his arms again you adjusted and looked straight at him, a primal side within kicking out. Your eyes were narrowed and you were practically baring your teeth, like some angry, triggered animal.

A distinct trait about you was that you were very independent for your age. You could be lost for several days and calmly figure things out instead of driving yourself into a panic. You loved your family, but didn't require them to find your inner strength in working through situations. However, the man before you was a test you never thought would exist in your life. Despite your aggression he wasn't fazed by the new offensive side.

His own mouth curled into an open sneer, showing several of his gleaming teeth that were perfectly bleach-white. And straight. He _liked_ seeing this revolting act you were putting on. It excited him. There was no doubt he'd be having fun in slowly cracking this, cracking your spirit.

"I see. So we'll be needing to do something about that rebellion too, now won't we?"

The tone of his voice confirmed just how entertained he was to see the fight being put up; there would be no scaring him.

"What the hell do you _want_ from me!?" You were driven to distraught, raising your voice but asking the question that should've been **screamed** much earlier.

It was all confusing and frustrating. You didn't expect things to be this way, not when you were...kidnapped. From all the stories heard, usually the victim ended up dying rather fast. This guy gave no hints in wanting you dead. Sure, he played around, but he wasn't horribly torturing you, unless the wrench in his hand was about to come into play, which you still prayed it wouldn't.

"I want **you**." He replied with steady calmness.

This still didn't give much of an answer. Obviously he wanted you if he kidnapped you, but what exactly did he want  _with_ you? 

"No shit. What about me? What's so special about ME, you freak!?" You pulled on your arms but only resulted in scratching up your wrists from the constricting ropes.

He twirled the wrench in his fingers quite impressively despite the weight.

"You have great importance. Importance to me and this place...  **[First Name].** I've known you for quite a while."

Hearing your name from him wasn't so pleasurable. Your tense muscles—that sought to challenge the ropes again—were now jelly.

"What?..." Your mouth felt dry.

"I've worked here for quite a while now. Family owned. Have an uncle who's very close friends with the owner. So I guess...it's a partnership as well." He explained a snippet of information, though you didn't know how relevant it was supposed to be with any of this. He twirled his tool again and stopped it with one of the ends pointing at you.

"You always enjoyed coming to these places throughout the years. A Fazbear freak." 

You casted an eye at a corner of the room while thinking back. Just how long did he know you if he was talking about your past? Back when you were a _kid_? Your family picked this place as to entertain you and your sibling a lot.

So what?

Many other families did the same thing. Why would that lead one to kidnap you??

"You realize I wasn't the only kid who liked these restaurants growing up, right? Are you that unaware of the swarms that come in practically every day?"

Certainly this stupid shit wasn't the only thing to motivate the guy... How bored with their life would one have to be?

"Come now, I was only saying. It's not the reason as to why. I can't tell you the REAL reason! Not yet at least. No,  _that_ will take some time." He said.

So all this and still no real answer to why you were in some basement-looking room in a fucking kid's restaurant.

"But I'll tell you this... You  **belong** to the Fazbear family. You've been gone for so long...And now... You've come back! And I'll be making sure you stay." He laughed at this part.

"Obsessed with me since I was a kid. You're sick, dude." Was all you could think of saying.

He suddenly paused in all movements. His glassy eyes that held a perfect reflection of you were settled on yours once more. When he moved again he breathed out all air in his lungs, and took more in.

"Alriiight...I see where you're hinting at." He started with a low voice.

Way before you could expect it he hurled the wrench toward the closest arcade machine facing your direction. You instinctively flinched upon seeing his arms raise, predicting he was about to strike. Realizing you (thankfully) weren't on the literal hit list, you relaxed for a millisecond, then cringed back up after hearing the metal tool bash against the machine's screen.

You glanced at the damage; the tool had ricocheted and ended up on the floor. As for the screen it struck, it shattered but didn't fall to pieces. It remained intact with a new, massive, spiderweb look. You looked back at him, seeing his fists clinched.

 _Don't hit me, please_...

"You're thinking I'm some sick fuck that gets their rocks off to children." He guessed your initial thoughts and shot his face in yours again.

You pulled back just as fast, hitting the chair with a _thunk!_

"You'd be wrong, there. Veeery wrong. I would never do anything of the sort. I'm simply implying that it was enjoyable to watch you grow up. That is all."

It was interesting to hear him defend himself and clarify that he wasn't a pedophile. What was more interesting is that you believed him with every fiber of your being.

So he wasn't a kid rapist. Then what obsession did he have with you?

You were on the edge of being insane with this wonder.

"Can I at least know who YOU are?" You ditched the one question you were so desperate to find out for another, accepting he wouldn't be revealing any more to you. 

" **Peter**. See, isn't it a lot better to have a formal introduction? It's proper etiquette."

He gave his name and reached up to run his fingers through your growing bangs. You didn't move back this time, but turned your head away, making it plain evident you weren't accepting his physical touch.

"And I already know yours, obviously. I've known it for years." He said.

"But you asked what it was when I came in with my family..."

For a moment your point looked valid.

"How strange would it have been had I gone up to you and addressed you by your name?" He said.

_Yeah, strange. You kidnap a teenager and hold them hostage for reasons you won't disclose, yet saying their name in front of them is the only thing you see as strange!_

It was terribly ironic for him to discuss what was strange with you tied up in front of him.

"C'mon, you and your family paid hundreds of visits over the years. I've worked almost seven days a week here since I was sixteen. Don't you think I would've learned something as simple as your name by now? I mean...that COULD be a way of how I learned it. But...it isn't. I learned sooner. But that part isn't important." He added, looking away for a brief second to stare at his hand that was once holding the wrench, and then back at you.

"Yeah? What about the authorities? They'll keep investigating this place until they find me." You told him, already sounding unsure.

It was a poor idea but there was a small hope that it would work as some scare tactic. All criminals feared the police, right?

_RIGHT???...._

"Oh no they won't. They've already searched this place in and out. This room is what you may call 'hidden'. It's not on any of the maps, and the employees don't even know about it. And by the way, we _all_ gave the authorities the same story: we didn't know what happened to you. You were being an angry little bitch and left the building on your own. I mean...it's only true! You left. And everyone believed it. Especially your motherrr... Who knew very well how testy you were the whole day."

His facts pierced your gut with a sharpened sword of guilt.

_If only you hadn't taken that damned smoke break..._

"Anywho, Fazbear's is closed for a few days due to the investigation, but it won't last long. They've already given up looking IN the restaurant. Now the police have taken the investigation outside. But...obviously they'll never find anything. You have no idea what I've gotten away with over the years. So don't feel too left out and think you're the only one on my terrible deeds list." He kept explaining with a complacent smirk while casually fixing his hair that had gotten a little messy after his rage fit with the arcade machine.

_What he's gotten away with?_

"What else have you done?..." You asked. Your body was now giving into the natural quivering of fear.

"None of your concern just yet. But I will say, it's an interesting hobby that I have."

"So I'm just another victim of your crazy-ass teen hunt? You planning on kidnapping more?" 

"No no. Nothing like that. You're the first and will be the last. I won't be telling you what I do...not yet. Maybe I can tell you some day. When you're...on my side."

This small bit revealed more than what was said.

_On his side._

He planned on making you some kind of buddy for his own benefit?

Well this definitely meant he wouldn't be killing you, which was a mild relief, but it only made your original question on why burn deeper into your psyche.

Peter was, by definition, a creep, and here you were, tied to a chair in some secret room. You didn't know what was to happen next or how he planned on succeeding with these sinister plans, and the thought was making you shake all over, but you didn't break.

You _weren't_ going to show anymore weakness to this psychopath.

"But I'm prepared, and my forecast is that things will be happening sooner than I first expected." He added.

"Sure about that?" You challenged.

He had taken several steps back, granting personal space again. His eyes glimmered in the dark. 

"Trust me, I'm  **very** sure. All I have to do is let things start happening naturally. And that won't be long. Like I said."

What the hell was he meaning by letting things happen naturally?

He gave no clearer explanation. As soon as he said this he moved back by a step and turned around and walked away. You watched him open a large door he came in from and slam it closed.

 _Well, now what?_  

Five minutes passed and then ten minutes. Fifteen to twenty rolled around with no signs of him returning any time soon. You grew fed up with just sitting there and started squirming in your seat again. If it was possible to twist and pull your hands and wrists out of the damned ropes, you were _going_ to make it happen. What started off as mild scratching turned into a burning, cutting feeling.

There would be no freeing your hands. Not without severely slicing through them.

 _Not worth it_.

Both your hands throbbed in bad pain. You let out several groans when finally giving up.

So were you just going to sit here in dead silence until Peter returned?

This was obvious as there were no other options available. Maybe an hour passed when you began feeling a new discomfort. It was happening in the throat.

The pain of being _...thirsty_.

Last thing you drank was the drugged bottle of booze, and that was... _how long ago had that been?!_

Long enough for your body to start screaming for refreshments.

_So this is what he meant._

Peter would be using psychological torture to "train" you. Simple but very effective. It didn't take long before you began to wonder when he'd be showing back up.

You bit your lip hard until it hurt worse than your wrists. You hated accepting the fact that you, a very independent teenager, was now dependent on  _him_ for survival.


	5. Giving in

Peter was prepared for what he'd be dealing with when returning. He had a large bottle of what looked to be **water** in one of his hands.

"It's me." He stated, tone dark as coal.

_Who the fuck else would it be? The fuzz?!_

If you were in better conditions this would've been verbally thrown out, but when in great need of nourishment it wasn't a smart idea to piss off the only person who could provide them.

_Don't bite the hand that feeds you._

His mouth slinked to a sick grin when seeing how desperate you were eyeing the bottle; how it was the first thing looked at. 

 _The water was perfectly fresh_. Fresh and cold, given by the amount of condensation hanging onto the plastic.

You refused to directly look at the crazed monster, not wanting to show how desperate you were to quench your thirst. But the efforts didn't matter. With your body supplicating for survival, you were persuaded in admitting defeat by letting out a substantial sigh, and meeting his obsidian eyes.

"See? I told you it wouldn't be long." He mocked while approaching, but kept the beautiful-looking bottle out of your reach.

_Why the hell bother??_

You were fucking tied, there was no way to reach out and grab it from him. You put off your frustration when noticing the second object he had draped over his other hand. It was dark and looked to be made of fabric.

"So let's start with a few things, shall we?" He recaptured your attention.

Doing one of the many things he did best, he entered your personal space and had his mouth centimeters away from your nose. His hot breath made your skin tingle, and you held back the physical chill ready to shake your entire body. You saved your voice, just wanting to get the shit over with so you could partake in the precious water he was dangling from your non-existent grip.

"Tell me; who will you be listening to from now on?" He asked, hungry for your answer, and prepared for both acceptance or rejection. It would be a win-win for him either way.

Your eyes broadened a bit, then tightened. If you had enough moisture you just might've spat hard in his face again.

_For trying to make some kind of pet out of you._

"You." Your voice was shot, and you coughed after just one word.

He suddenly grabbed your chin and forced you to properly look at him.

" **No**. You will say it in a complete sentence. Let me hear it." He sneered, feeling triumphant and dancing on the grave your strong-willed spirit was climbing into.

 _FUCK THAT!_ Your fiery side snarled on the inside, but there was no use putting up another fight. You had already handed over the control of your emotions, there was no going back, even though you were ready to take off his fingers—

"I will be listening to you." You forced without an expression.

Peter's smile was blood-thirsty. _This_ answer was acceptable, and what he was waiting for.

"Good. Now we can get somewhere."

You weren't interested in understanding what this meant. Your full attention was invested in the plastic bottle. Thankfully this next step involved it, and he let go of your face to untwist the cap and bring it near your lips. Desperate instincts pushed you to move your head forward like a parched creature. He quickly pulled the bottle back, causing a bit of spillage.

"No." He suddenly refused.

"You want to drink? You will patiently let  **me** assist!"

You bared your teeth but reluctantly sat still. He grabbed your chin again and tilted it upwards slightly. He gently pushed the lid passed your lips and allowed the water to fall. Catching more than you could handle at once, you spewed out a mouthful, choking on the remnants that managed to seep passed the wrong pipe. He took the bottle back and used his thumb to help wipe away what was dribbling down your mouth and chin.

"Oh, look what you caused. You made a little mess." He teased.

"Who knew you could be so clumsy? Isn't that adorable?"

With your system no longer desperate for water, it now focused back on temper. You didn't know you were doing it until it just happened. You had turned your head towards his hand and bit down _hard_ just below his thumb. You growled on the inside before tasting strong copper and let go around the same time he started grunting loudly in pain that morphed into anger.

Now you prepared for the worse.

 _If he hadn't hit you earlier he was certainly going to now!_ Your senses came to and you prepared for one of his fists to fly.

But the strikes never came. He held his bleeding hand and paced several times while grumbling, but never showed a sign of returning the assault.

His patience was phenomenal. After about a minute he let go of his damaged hand and acted as if the pain had magically disappeared.

"This attitude of yours is rather annoying...but I can look passed it." He stated, breathing hard with no wonder to it.

A small bead of blood ran down your lips while listening to him. You spat, not wanting his crimson fluids. You noticed that as he talked he clutched the fabric on his arm closer to himself, like it was something he refused to let anyone touch.

"But for now...you've made your point. I was going to let you out again for the night, but not this time. You're staying here for another twelve hours. I suggest you get used to it and learn that life can get much easier here if you simply just follow my directions."

He boldly moved toward you again and used the same hand to grab your chin and pull your head close as he leaned in.

"You have a good night, **[First Name]**."

He ended things by opening his mouth and releasing his tongue and running the tip of it over your nose and forehead. The freak action paralyzed you with absolute shock, and there was no effort to fight him off. He did one more unexpected action; he moved behind you and cut your ropes with a pocket knife, but only your hands would be given freedom.

He twirled the sharp, dangerous tool in his fingers no smoother than he had done with the wrench, even with the blade open and prepped for slicing. He was slow in moving away, which you originally thought was a stupid choice considering your hands were now free and so was the ability to reach and grab anything close.

He dispelled any ideas when glancing back a final time, flashing a crafty, white smile that said everything:

_Go ahead. Try. You'll get it, alright. You'll get it deep in the hand that volunteers for the petty theft, and then It'll be looking ten times worse than what you did to ME._

There was no guessing on how good he was at using a blade, especially if he was comfortable and talented enough to spin it with only his fingers with no signs of screw-up. He turned away when sensing his message was understood, and continued his saunter. When reaching the door he killed the lights for the first time.

It wasn't like you feared the dark, but this would make things a little more tedious than what you were used to. With your hands free but legs not, it was evident he was going to let you untie the remainder, but making you do it while basically blind.

You felt around helplessly for where the first knot may be. It took nearly ten minutes of fiddling upon discovery, and you were eventually rewarded with looser ropes until they could be easily pulled off. In all, it took over half an hour. Worth it. 

You knocked over the birthday throne that had held you as its prisoner by mistake when fumbling around. You found the wall and felt along while walking in the unhelpful darkness. It was a wasteful move, but you tried the door handle when your hands bumped into it. 

_Locked._

What else was new?

You dropped to your knees, out of ideas for the night. Using the back of your hand, you brushed a lingering hair out of your face and came into contact with Peter's saliva trail, still moist on your skin. Thinking about that weird lick sent a rush of heat through your body and turned into a physical chill, causing you to shake.

_It was so violating!_

You hated this new level of "touch". You almost scratched up your face when wiping off the surplus goo in aggression. The memory of the lick kept replaying against your will.

_His dangerous smile opening and calling out his wet organ to taste you!_

The angry heat came back, but it was aiming lower. Both your legs started to ache—

_NO! You couldn't be liking that!_

You scooted several feet away from where you were sitting, thinking you could simply move away from the dark pleasuring thoughts.

 _Just imagine if he started from your chin instead of the nose. His tongue would've made contact with your lips. It would almost be like a form of a_ kiss.

A demanding fire exploded between your thighs.

"Stop!" You ordered your own rebelling imagination.

Here you were, having homosexual thoughts for the first time in life. It was something you never  **dreamed** about happening. You weren't a homophobe, but you've made your sexual orientation clear throughout school.

Being almost sixteen, there should've been all the time needed to figure yourself out by now. You had crushes in the past and loved taking peeks at the rear-ends of short skirted-girls whenever they'd shamelessly bend over at the water fountains in the hallways.

You liked girls as much as the next heterosexual guy...

But the fire didn't extinguish. The images of nice, plush asses belonging to attractive classmates were having no effect. The defiant imagination suddenly fought back, showing a fabricated scene if Peter  **had** touched your lips with this tongue.

 _Just think about it...with how self-inviting he was, he would probably stop at your lips, and then forced his tongue through them._  

More self-prohibited display of ideas kept emerging, until you thought about knocking yourself out cold in hate.

What the hell was it about Peter that unlocked a dark desire within? He made you question everything taught since childhood. What should've been a feeling of disgust, like any normal heterosexual teen, was only curiosity. He had made a seditious fire light inside the pit of your stomach, and every time he came up in your head it grew more and more into an inferno. _And it felt...GOOD!_

But what if these weren't his intentions? What if he performed the strange act just for the sake of being weird? You could be blowing the whole thing out of proportion... But the softness and nature of that tongue was unmistakable _._ His breaths were even different and matched ones of—

_moaning._

You hadn't heard anything audible from him during that moment other than his wet mouth, but his breath was long and had tickled your skin, like he was enjoying it... There was no mistaking. He knew what he was doing and knew it would affect you greatly. He was a true master of psychological manipulation.

The only thing that could remotely pull you away from the wonder of these bizarre desires was the random notice of how you had been barefoot this whole time.

Peter had robbed you of your footwear on day one.


	6. Stockholm

"It's me."

He clearly had a favorite when it came to abnormal greetings. 

Having no contact with anyone besides him was maddening, and to top it off you had yet to clean your body. 

He did this on purpose to enhance desperation, having no choice but to accept his other offers. However, it would be like signing a contract. There was always a catch when accepting an offer vital to your health. As for hygiene, you could no longer hold out in the battle.

In the beginning, Peter explained that you "simply" had to accept a new wardrobe provided by him in order to gain access to proper sanitation. You would be giving him complete control in what you wore.

"I'm not your fucking doll to dress up." You had originally reproached when seeing part of the outfit he wanted to throw on you so badly. The good news was that it wasn't anything super strange. Not from the little you saw at least, but there was still the fact of handing over another large portion of your freedom as payment for fresh outfits and sanitation.

"Let's see how long you can keep _this_ up." He'd reply, chuckling after.

The hopes of police returning for your rescue died out a long time ago. If things weren't fucked up enough, the part of your mind that produced wayward thoughts on pleasuring yourself to him had flourished into an alternate personality.

There was still you, fiery and temperamental as ever, but the other "you" refused to let your ideas of escaping this hell hole blossom any further. This dark cancer of the alter ego was further nourished by the odd affections your captor would briefly supply.

Your change in attitude was only seen as progress to Peter. This seemed to be what he was for sure waiting on. It was the very thing he discussed on the day (or night) he tied you to that birthday chair. Patience truly paid off, and he was about to relish in the rewards.

Right now you wanted nothing to do with him. You didn't _enjoy_ his greeting, but didn't hate it either. He had not an ounce of your attention until you saw what he was carrying with him this time, and he damn well knew there was desire for this...

 _food_.

He's kept your water intake up enough to where there were no worries of dehydration. But as for food, he denied you consumption of it on a regular basis. You ate only every two or three days, being starved on purpose. It was so he could watch you tear into whatever he brought. It would give him sick delight on seeing how much control he's gained since day one of the kidnapping.

 _Pizza_.

It was always pizza as a dish whenever he decided to feed you.

Typical.

You thought you'd be physically sick of the greasy stuff by now, but when you were literally starved, _anything_ sounded appetizing.

Your eyes stayed on the large pizza as he lowered it to your level.

"Nothing fancy today, stubborn one. Just plain cheese" He gave away the flavor like some superb dish.

"You remember what to do. You will be letting **me** feed you. I'm sure you have that down by now." He said.

"Do you _see_ me going after it?" You asked, annoyed with his worn-out instructions.

"Not yet." He smirked and grabbed a slice, pulling it away from the main portion. 

"So, have you thought anymore about my little deal? Because...well...You certainly look like you could use a refresh. Smell like it, too. I should use a slingshot to feed you." He joked.

" **Fuck you**. Whose fault is it that I'm filth pile right now?" You bit back.

"Not the one you think it is. I've been offering everything you need. _You're_  the one who's been refusing and letting yourself grease up." He said, pulling the slice away suddenly and standing back up.

"Perhaps I need to add something else on the table to get you come around." He said.

He didn't say what this additive was, but it wasn't hard to guess.

"Now you aren't gonna feed me unless I give in. I see how it is..." You said with a heat of frustration traveling up from your chest to your head.

"Well that saves me the explanation." He grinned.

"C'mon. You can't keep this up any longer, tough guy. Look at you."

 _He has a point._  Your conscience prodded. You couldn't keep this up any longer _._ Even instincts were saying to give in.

"What do you want me to do..." You dimly asked, lowering your head to hide the shame, though it still screamed defeat.

"Get up. I want you to get washed off." His tone was soft with a hint of eagerness.

_The cat finally got the mouse to come out._

"With what? The shabby shower thing over there no longer works." You said, not realizing this was his doing. You had tried using the shower water to quench great thirst a long time ago before learning that nothing came out of the nozzle anymore.

"I can turn it back on." He revealed and laughed, making you feel entirely stupid for not suspecting him as being able to shut off the water.

 _Of course you can_. 

After this he put a hand on the physically irritating control collar and fiddled with the lock, snapping it off.

You looked astonished. 

"Give me a minute. I'll be back." Peter left, taking the tray and electrical device with him.

He returned with a sack in one hand and a fresh pair of new clothes in the other—the same ones seen before that were dark in color. He tossed them on the floor and headed out again.

"It should work now. I'll give you an hour before I come back. Enjoy, dirt ball." He snickered and closed the door, giving you privacy. You had thrown up a middle finger after the petty insult, but he never saw it.

With the "shower" prepped, you sighed, having no choice but to do the best you could with what you had. It was better than being a huge stink pile.

Everything ran on autopilot as you were eventually washing yourself with soap from the provided bag and hot water. It was the best feeling in the universe.

As hygiene greatly improved, so did your attitude. You were feeling grateful towards Peter's generosity in letting you live comfortably again, but what countered it was knowing he was the one who caused all this in the first place. It made your head feel fuzzy as your new alternative battled for control over thoughts and feelings with your captor.

Eventually you were satisfied with the wash and dried off with the provided towel. You weren't superb in keeping track of the minutes left and didn't want to risk Peter walking in on you, so no time was wasted in going for the fresh clothes.

You threw them on and inspected after, instead of vice versa. One thing piquing your interest were the jet black...skinny jeans?

Several thoughts crossed your mind, one being that these were a type you always wanted to wear over the past couple years. The other being...why the hell did Peter _want_ you to wear these? Major details that jumped out were the thick white ring patterns around the legs. The lower parts at least.

What the hell were  _they_ for?

You looked at the top; It was long-sleeved with the same white rings on the lower arms, and three vertical, large white buttons going down the chest area.

_What the hell kind of outfit was this?_

It looked like some dark costume of the sort. There was a slight regret in putting them on, but it was either that or the disgusting pile feet away.

 _Do the best you can with what you have_. You reminded yourself and got over the personal issues with the wardrobe. The sleeves were long enough to pass your wrists and almost your hands. The lower part of the shirt ended a little over where the pants began.

_Think positive. They actually look a little fash—_

_No!_

You slammed a palm against the side of your head, thinking it was possible to "beat" the alternative out of your psyche. You almost didn't notice the door unlocking.

"Such an improvement!"

You heard his voice, and your innards churned, until he placed his hand on your shoulder. Then they fluttered.

"You may be ready sooner than I thought." He continued.

"Uh...ready for whut?"

"To be a part of the Fazbear family again. I told you, it's where you belong." He replied.

_There he went again with that "Fazbear family" shit._

He set more items near you. The first things seen were basic shoes, solid black in color.

"I'm sure you're done walking around barefoot, and it's one more added touch." He explained.

"But they aren't the  _last_ touch. There's still a couple more to go, including this right here..." He introduced the second object. Its color consisted of mostly white. Then you realized it was a mask.

It looked like some strange clown face _,_ gleamy with purple lines going down from the eyes to the eerie, smiling mouth. It also had two pink circles as blushing cheeks and pink on the mouth area.

"The fuck is that!?" You were immediately repulsed.

"A very important piece to your new character." He said, expecting you to be receptive off the bat.

"So that's your little plan? You want to make some kind of pet out of me?" 

"Now it just sounds pitiful when you say it like that." 

"Fuck that. I don't want that thing. It's creepy as fuck." You weren't shy on showing unwillingness in accepting the freaky plastic face he wanted to put over yours.

"It looks like a rejected Halloween mask." You kept lambasting.

"Take two steps forward, then one step back." Peter said, having a mild frustration at your defiance towards the rest of the deal. However, he still had mountains of forbearance left.

_Just because you weren't liking one thing about the new "look", didn't mean you would forever refuse it._

This was how he saw it, and he just _may_ be accurate with that theory.

"You're not getting me to wear that." You repeated just in case the first message went over his head.

"Just like I'm not ever going to get you to change your wardrobe. Gotcha." He sneered and headed out the large door, carrying the mask with him.

 _You can get me to change my clothes and wear your weird outfits, but you're NOT going to turn me into a full blown costume._ You growled in your head, but didn't respond to Peter, who had slammed the door shut seconds after.

 _Yes he is. Just look how far he's gotten already_. A part of your mind refuted, facing reality of the situation. You had the same mind set days ago when promising yourself that he wouldn't get you to accept his offerings, and now look where that went...


	7. Mascot

How could you ever see yourself having some form of positive relationship with what someone would call a serious criminal? Especially when they would inflict discomfort on you? 

Your mind would jump to the side of seeing Peter as a monster—because that's what he was—only to recoil back to the corners where the anomalous desire of pleasing him resided. He acted so differently when he was pleased with you. This wasn't to say you wouldn't let temper speak like it tended to, but he seemed to have a strange influence over you when he wanted. It was extremely uncanny, it was otherworldly, it was—

 _seductive._ But was entirely wrong...plain **wrong**! But still triggered something rusty in you to loosen...and he was more than a little aware of this, using it to his benefit considerably.

Did everyone have small trickles of guilty pleasure with taboo in their system, hydrating more and more into a mote of dark fantasies with each action of prohibited delight?

This would sound beyond ridiculous to you a long time ago. It would sound ridiculous to _anyone—_ anyone who has yet to actually be in that sort of situation. Of course it was easy for one to think it was unreal if they've never come across it themselves!

_Experience is the best teacher, isn't it?_

So now came the day where you were wrapped in the cloth of the new ego Peter created. He knew the day you accepted his "offering" would mean a monumental turn in events. It truly signified that you were engulfed in his control and there was no going back.

"Savor the name ' **[First Name]'** , for it's the last time you'll be hearing it." He told you.

"Because from now on you will go by 'Puppet'. No matter what anyone asks. That will be the **only** name addressed to you; starting now. Get very used to it." He explained before you could even ask why, but that question was saved for now instead of then.

"The WHAT? Why??" You were in disbelief. 

"It sounds like some weird Fazbear character you're trying to get me to be..." You started before seeing a cryptic shine in his eyes.

"What?... W-Wait..No! No!! WHYYY??" You dreadfully protested against the horrendous idea of being turned into some kind of model for the restaurant. Peter grabbed and slammed you against the wall to quiet everything.

It definitely worked.

He put his lips dangerously close to yours, making a discharge of heat sweep through your lower body, paralyzing you. You thought he was legitimately going to plant one, giving the first homosexual kiss you thought you'd never get (and never planned to) when he moved his head upwards to where his lips settled near the tip of your nose.

"Because I want toooooooo..." He whispered without any vocals, hot breath waving over your pores, making you feel as if you were about to start sweating.

"Because I want you to be thisss. Because you'll do anything and everything I say..."

He was granting himself the power of stripping you from your natural identity given at birth and remaking it. From the sound of things, this wasn't your average nickname, this was something that would be eating the life away from your real name until it was the only thing you knew. It's exactly what he wanted, and Peter was most definitely the kind of person who made sure he got what he wanted.

_If kidnapping you and poisoning your psyche wasn't enough evidence._

He stared hard into your eyes until you thought he was going to penetrate your brain this way before finally releasing a portion of his grip. You would've preferred his hand on your chin instead of your neck area, where his fingers now resided when they slid from your face. You didn't even notice him digging into his pockets with his other hand until he pulled out something skinny and white. Your eyes tore from his and locked onto the object settled between his fingers.

A cigarette.

Just merely looking at it erupted a volcanic craving. You hadn't had one of those things in several weeks. Your stress had ironically kept the cravings at bay to where you practically forgot about them, but now Peter seemed to be giving them a reintroduction.

You didn't want to assume he was teasing, but you knew better by this point. He was forcing your addiction to reawaken and scream out in every inch of your body.

_How badly you wanted—no **needed** —the nicotine! _

So suddenly it felt like you couldn't go on in life another minute unless you had one.

He chortled, amused at how deprived you looked. He removed his hand from your throat and reached into his other pocket. He pulled out a silver lighter, completely clean and spotless with a radiant reflection.

There was a metallic  _click_ as he summoned a decent flame and lit the cigarette's end smoothly. He casually took in a nice long inhale and blew out a monstrous thick cloud in your face when leaning back in. You looked away, desperately trying not to feel bothered by what was happening. You strived to make it look like you weren't wanting a share of the toxic thing...and did a terrible job. There were beads of sweat forming on your forehead while you tried not to cough from the lingering second-hand.

"Smoking's bad, Puppet." He smugly jested, using your new nickname for the first time. He had added more rasp to his voice where he said this "name".

Being called by the new identity sent a chill up your back. Already you were feeling yourself fading from existence and being replaced by this... _fake!_

"Look at me, Puppet. **Look**!" He ordered, and you promptly obeyed.

His cigarette winked at you in the gloom as he took a second hit, smaller this time.

"Come here." He calmly instructed, but you were hesitant.

However, you were aware that what he planned on doing would certainly not be as bad as what would happen if his instructions were refused. You carefully pushed off the wall and inched closer. There wasn't much space killed considering you were already pretty close, but he most likely just wanted to see commands followed.

You need not be verbal in response.

"Go ahead." He invited, holding the other end of the cigarette to your lips in an enticing way.

Your gaze tore from the stick back to him, studying his glimmering eyes and scanning his facial features for any signs of tricks. It was too strange that he'd permit you this break after teasing you with it. 

_He had to be up to something, right??_

An instinct said to not go for it, but another assumed if you disobeyed him now he just may  **burn** you with the lit end, as some sort of savage punishment.

You finally accepted his offer and took an inhale, the nicotine instantly having you at its mercy. You ended up taking the whole thing from his grip without even realizing, which he allowed and let go. When your lungs had all they could take, you blew out the heavy cloud, careful not to shoot it at him.

"That nice?" He questioned when watching your over-zealous enjoyment.

By this time you had taken in a second inhale.

"Answer." He demanded.

"Yes." You said in-between puffs.

His hands suddenly grabbed and hurled you to the floor without any kind of warning. Slamming onto the cold tile conjured a small choking fit as you hadn't exhaled the smoke prior.

You hacked and wheezed, your mouth spitting up oddly-shaped smoke clouds like some challenged train engine. It was no accident in making you suffer the horrid cough until close to gagging; Peter had been waiting for the right moment to man-handle.

The cancer stick had flown and rolled onto the floor, weaving a translucent stalagmite of grey smoke that almost touched the room's ceiling for a few seconds before the entire thing was stomped on by his boot, the killing slam rebounding across the room.

"Good. Because you won't be getting anymore of those without my say so. But I sincerely hope you enjoyed it." His tone was scarily calm still, but you distinctively heard a giggle escape his throat. He pleased your craving only to yank it back.

 _Nice one, asshole..._ Your mind groaned.

You took three breaths and waited for the shock caused by his sudden violence to leave. Then you lifted your head back up. He was turned away and preoccupied with God know's what.

"Well then..." Your voice was partially shot from the now tired, abused throat.

"If you're wanting me to be this fucked up little 'mascot' for your restaurant, you might wanna start upgrading this shit-shack. The looks you're putting on me don't match any of the styles here. Unless...you  _like_ being tacky."

A smile ran up your face along with a trickle of saliva sliding down the corner of your mouth. You may have said all of this to truly hint that the outfit you were given, though comfortable and decent-looking, wasn't at all Fazbear fashion. Or maybe you just wanted to say something snarky in return for the rough treatment.

"It IS being upgraded." He stated right after.

 _Wait, REALLY?_  You thought.

_The restaurant was actually going to change things up despite the fact that it's been about the same since it opened its doors??_

This information was genuinely intriguing.

"What's changing?" Yes, you had to ask. You had also finally gotten back to your feet.

"Decor. And within a year or so this place will be closing its doors while another location will be opening their's. So we'll be relocating, but it won't happen overnight. But the least we can do is get people prepared for it. Starting tomorrow the image of our characters will be changing. It's an idea that's been floating around for years and now it's finally being put into action. The animatronics will still be the same for the time being, but new ones are getting created as we speak. If you haven't realized it by now you actually  **are** a mascot; a mascot of the most unique character we'll be introducing. At least _I_ think it's unique..." He explained.

_You, a mascot. A fucking CHARACTER! A creature for the little shits that come in this place to scream at and harass..._

Peter turned back to you and smiled.

"To be technical, the character you're representing is named 'Marionette'. But I'm sure you'd rather not go by  _that_ name. Unless—"

" **NO**." You cut him off, but wondered why Puppet was the alternative.

"Right then. Now go wet your hair, I'm not through with you just yet." He gave a strange task and motioned you to the corner of the room where the hose and nozzle resided.

_Fucking wet your hair? For what??_

"Completely; don't sprinkle, **drench**." He explained more in depth before leaving the room to fetch something you had no idea about.

You grumbled and turned the shower's handle with mild aggression. You waited a few seconds for the water to become lukewarm and finally lowered your head to proceed with finishing the task. When it felt like your hair couldn't get anymore soaked you shut everything off and wrung out the heavily excess water. Peter must've come back in when you were engrossed, for you felt his hands grab your wet head, causing a scared jump.

"Relaaax..." He told you, his fingers massaging themselves into your hair and scalp.

"The fuck are you doing??"

"You'll see. Now stop moving and just hold still."

His grip tightened, sending you the familiar silent warning that he wouldn't hesitate to get forceful, and you froze. Sensing the cooperation, his grip lightened and he continued with the massage. You eventually felt the sensation of large amounts of gel going through your hair. It smelled weird, and, at one point, burned even.

"What IS that stuff?" You weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to sit through this "session", especially if it was going to cause pain out of all things.

No reply was given. After another few minutes, when you were close to grinding your nails into your own skin, he finally let go.

"There. Now wash it out. Then you can go look." He informed, referring to the restaurant's bathrooms; the only place you'd get to use a mirror.

You were swift in rinsing your hair a second time, making sure all the mysterious substance was out. Then you entered the men's facility and nearly slammed into the first sink, staring into the large mirror above it.

Purple.

Not only did Peter completely relax your hair, but he had dyed it a dark purple, almost matching the shade of his uniform. There was nothing natural about it anymore. You stumbled back, not comfortable with it in the slightest. You exited the restroom and almost ran straight into the man himself. Words weren't necessary; the look on your face screamed everything.

_What the actual fuck, Peter?!_

"What? It's supposed to match your design." He smiled creepily, stroking one of your wet bangs that was now purple, hanging over your forehead with no life. Then he held up something else. It wasn't new but it wasn't a welcomed sight either; It was the same mask he presented when you first accepted the new uniform. You pulled back from him.

"I don't _want_ that fucking thing!" A refusal inside went mad. You still had no intention on accepting the creepy mask, let alone _wear_  it.

He instantly moved the same hand at an angle, his face now bearing a snarl.

When finally realizing he was actually about to **strike** , a gasp jumped from your lungs, and you flinched, covering yourself to prepare for impact.

It never came. Looking back up revealed he had lowered his hand. He was smiling again.

_It was a damn bluff!_

Your cringing face morphed into a scowl. Peter's laughs were audible now.

"It's going to happen. We've been through this, PUPPET. You'll be doing anything and everything I say. You'd better start liking this thing in the next twelve hours, because you'll be spending a lot more time with it."

Any anger that might've been present was all but absent now. He turned and sauntered back to an opposite hallway. It must've meant he was granting you freedom in roaming around for a while before locking you back up. It was one small thing to be thankful for today...

_Probably the ONLY thing to be thankful for today._

"Why _THIS_ character?" You asked almost painfully. Even  _you_ had to admit the question was entirely useless, but your displeasure with most of this character's features made you wish you were representing something else.  

"It has more meaning than you know of. But..maybe you'll learn of it as time passes." He answered. It sounded beyond anomalous, but it's what you deserved for wasting breath in even asking.

He kept walking and gradually disappeared from sight after turning a corner. When he was gone your head was empty of ideas on what to do now in helping to pass time. You grabbed a handful of your own hair and almost started scratching at the scalp.

_Scratching away the alien fur off your head..._

You suddenly wished your mother  **had** sheered everything off before your sister's party weeks ago...


	8. Puppet

Your new and completed appearance was a sight to behold in Peter's eyes.

He skimmed over every inch, so damn delighted at his accomplishment in the full transformation. You had eventually accepted your new hair color and style and you never minded the outfit, but the mask was still something that would take a while to get used to. It felt like something ugly was smothering your face despite your easy ability to breathe. You had your arms crossed, growing very tired of his ridiculous admiration.

"Hey, snap a picture, bruh, it won't grow tired that way." You nipped, expecting his smile to leave.

Surprise surprise, it never did. Although it shrank a bit, it still hung as a smirk, though his eyes stopped moving all over you like they were having some weird seizure.

He took one last feel of your hair he had relaxed and colored before moving away to start leading you.

"Alright. Let's start this party." He began focusing on the new task at hand, which would be your first day in actually interacting with the guests, like a real employee.

"What you're going to do is give out the presents to the birthday children. It's what the Puppet does; make the kids happy."

You listened to his instructions without reply and confirmation. It sounded simple enough, anyway.

"Stroking their little spoiled egos by making me a maid, catering to their every whim. Sounds great. Can't wait to get started." Your un-enthusiasm for what lay ahead was plainly protruding.

"If you're looking for sympathy on the loss of what you think is your manhood, look elsewhere, like perhaps a dictionary. Oh, but you never had your manhood in the first place, now  **did** you? _Kid_?" He stomped on your statement with his own way of telling you to suck it up.

"So I guess I won't be getting my steel toes back any time soon?"

Though there actually wasn't anymore interest in them, you randomly brought up the missing boots he disposed of most likely because they could be used as a decent weapon, which wasn't something he wanted available. It was only mere snappy humor on your part. His smile broke this time, and he responded by snapping the old collar back around your neck.

_Again with this thing??!_

You groaned faintly when being almost choked by the device once more. Then he held up some kind of remote from his pocket that bore a number of buttons, labeled 1-5.

"Anyway..." He ignored the useless question and went straight to explanation.

"Must THIS part be explained? I tend to have a trigger-happy finger... Don't give me a reason to do it." He aggressively knocked on the collar with his knuckle before pulling shirt's collar over to hide it.

"And what exactly counts as a reason to you? What don't you want me to do?"

Although there was a dash of grumpiness in you, the question was earnest. It would be best to learn what would and would not upset Peter while interacting with people. One couldn't gamble on bad presumptions...

"Well, there's the obvious. For one, I don't want to see you chatting with anyone for too long. I'm not a mind reader." He started.

_You sure about that? 'Cause you've been doing a pretty damn good job drilling through my mind since I've been here._

"So I don't want to...guess on anything." He tapped on one of the mask's cheeks, and you pulled away.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm not telling anyone shit. So calm your little happy finger." You assured him. It seemed the only thing written down on his unhappy list was pretty much just talking to adults for too long.

"And least we forget..." He stepped closer and ran his fingers down a side of the mask.

"This is to stay on you at _all_ times...It doesn't come an inch off your face." He finally managed to strike nervousness.

_He was damn well serious about this one._

"You do these simple things, and we won't have any possible unpleasant run ins with _this_." He tapped on the hidden collar again.

"And to think you've only felt level two." He smiled.

A small fleet of chills swept over in memory of the old zaps received in the past. So it was level two that had been keeping you in line. You couldn't imagine what the fifth level felt like...

"And don't worry. I've readjusted it. Instead of monitoring your volume it will now just be responding to the buttons."

It was a somewhat comforting thought knowing you weren't grounded from speaking at certain decibels, but there was a morsel of uneasiness worming in your gut. The mere thought of being able to communicate with guests that you're really **[Full Name]** , the teen boy who everyone thought had disappeared over a month ago, was enough to lightly stir the ancient revolt, but not much.

The shock collar gave the ropes to your alternative.

"Any questions before we begin?" He asked, knowing you wouldn't need a second run down, but enjoyed feeling like a deranged mentor for the shits and giggles.

"Woof."

One last sarcastic smack was spat out in reference to how low Peter reduced you with the electrical tool around your neck. His eyes tightened in growing annoyance, but brushed it off again.

"Or would you rather stay in here all day?"

"No." Was all you said. There was a tinge of hesitation in this response, but it would be going unnoticed. The want to leave the room now and start this interesting day was flourishing, sprouting anxiety with it. Your fingers dug into the dark sleeves covering your arms.

"Good." He whispered lowly.

You were quick in following him to the door. Despite what you were about to do, it felt so good to leave the room at last—

"Oh yeah, before I forget..."

You were inches away from slamming into him when he randomly stopped and spun back around.

"It's small, but still greatly important. You'll understand. Anyway, If anyone asks about your age tell them you're eighteen." He said this like it was truly essential.

"Uh...why?" 

"Just do it." He repeated.

"Alright. Be free. Well, you know what I mean." He said while opening the door, catching the dark joke and laughing at himself.

This put a grim look on your face, but you said nothing more and walked, progressing through the hallways. 

The mask's features saved your eyes from being burned by the restaurant's bright lights. The eye and mouth parts were constructed from a black fabric, securing the identity of whoever was wearing it. It also doubled as kind of sunglasses. You dug your nails into your sleeves again, anxiety skyrocketing. It was just now starting to hit that you haven't interacted with anyone in over a month and this was about to change, and things wouldn't be like they used to anymore when it came to communicating with other people.

However, your stress plummeted back to earth when you saw how different the place was decorated. New streamers festooned every corner of the ceiling, and posters of the soon-to-be new characters embellished most of the walls. One of them was the thing you were representing; _Marionette._

So this is what it looked like—it was a damn puppet. Now it was clear where Peter picked out your new name from.

Marionette looked to be rather creepy. Its body was long and slender with no real feet and long fingers. Other than this your outfit nailed the look on the color and pattern. A random voice almost made you jump suddenly. 

"So you got stuck with the puppet, huh? Hey, you make it look pretty good at least. It sure beats the hell out of wearing a worn out polo." 

You turned to see a young woman in uniform at a table, lining up a few name tags under each shiny party hat. She must've just come in as more staff members were entering through the doors. The fact that she was even talking to you was new and intimidating on its own. Peter didn't give specific instructions on how to deal with his employees.

"Uh...yeah! For a while I felt self-conscious, until I remembered just how terrible everyone looked in that." You put on a good act and pointed at her uniform.

_Just play it off. Play it off and no one will suspect a thing._

"Hey, watch it!" She warned but meant no harm.

You honestly thought she didn't look too terrible in what she was wearing. She was pretty cute to be quite honest, but that's as far as opinions went.

"So did you finish your part of the check list?" She suddenly asked.

You had no idea what she was talking about, and it sounded too important to be ignored.

"Uhwhat?" 

"The check list. The opening check list. Either you did or you didn't. If not then you need to finish before doing anything else." She explained, but you were at a loss of what should be said.

"It's a simple yes or no question..." She kept going.

"Are you new?" She then asked. Your insides jumped at what could be a saving grace in this awkward conversation.

"Oh! Yes, actually. Sorry..uh..still learning the ropes and shit." You came up with.

Her face softened, understanding.

"Oh! Gotcha. Okay, first off, watch your language. Sorry, it's just a rule we have here. Kid environment and all, so no swearing. Anyway, I'll help you with—" She was suddenly stopped when Peter showed up, forcing himself in her view.

"Go take care of the kitchen. I'll deal with this." He instructed her with no friendliness in his voice. He was given a 'yes sir' before she disappeared into the room of mention.

"Where they _all_ belong. Hehh..." He sneered at his own misogynistic joke while watching her go.

"Har har." You added, not finding it so entertaining.

He turned back to you, not looking quite upset, but still a little unpleased.

"Don't wander like that. These boneheads think you're here for the same reason they are. I mean that's what I'm  _wanting_ them to think, but don't let yourself get caught up in their shit. I'll send out the word to everyone that you have your own agenda, but do me and yourself a favor by not talking to them. Period. Got it?" He came up with even more rules. They were no different than the ones concerning guests, but you could see why dealing with the employees would be more of a hassle.

"You definitely won't have to worry about me doing that." You replied and were serious about it. Socializing with the employees here was not a priority. If anything you wanted nothing to do with them. 

"By the way, forgot to fetch this from my office earlier and give it to you." He was saying before holding up a belt. It was all white with spikes, resembling something the popular metal-head bands wore.

"What's THAT for??" You had a mix of curiosity... and a bit of thrill. This was a style you had always dreamed of wearing but were unable to since the folks were against it.

Then curiosity splashed again; why did he  _want_ you to wear it?

"It goes with your outfit and gives a little modern kick. Aannd...I had a feeling you'd like it." He said, noticing how much your eyes were devouring the belt.

"Now hurry and put it on." He tossed it over.

You almost dropped it but managed to wrap it around and hook it perfectly. There was a terribly strong guilty pleasure.

_It looked good on you, and you were loving it._

"So...uh... now what?" You asked, covering up your excitement pumped by the tasteful accessory.

"Won't be long now." He said, facing in the direction where the entrance was.

The first guests of an early birthday party were arriving. You turned around after hearing the first few shrieks of excitement.

"Uggh..." You groaned audibly.

_Staying in the room no longer seemed like a terrible way to spend the day..._

"Look! It's the puppet!" A child caught you in his radar and his eagerness exploded into a shout. Him and three other kids managed to pull away from their parents and run to meet you.

"Shit..." You whispered, and Peter laughed at your expense.

Upon meeting you they ran their hands down the material of your outfit, like you were some baby goat or sheep at a petting zoo. You thought the buttons and belt were about to be torn off when their parents finally showed up to pull them back.

"No! You don't touch the puppet's belt like that. You could pull it off." A mother chastised the lot of them.

"Yeah, that's  **my** job." Peter commented low enough to where only you could hear it, smiling like he was holding back a cauldron of laughter behind the door of his shiny white teeth.

"Shut up." You jabbed back but felt the strange, foreign feeling again, though not as powerful due to the children and parents being around. But it was still strong enough to where you closed your eyes for a moment to think on if he truly had plans on making lustful advances in the near future.

"That really IS a cool-looking belt though. Nice!" A father snapped you out of wonder with a compliment.

"Um...thanks!" You responded but tensed up, wondering if Peter was okay with this.

No bad looks were exchanged, so you relaxed.

"Is the puppet gonna give me presents?" A boy came up and asked. You guessed he was the birthday kid.

 _That's what Peter said, didn't he? You handed the gifts out to the kids?_ So technically a "yes" would've been an acceptable response.

"Hun, leave the puppet alone! He'll come by when it's time for your gifts. We just got here. You haven't even eaten or played any games yet." A different woman approached and took her kid by the arm, pulling him back from your personal space.

 _Thank God_... 

"Sorry about that. They're just a liiiittle more hyper than us adults are in the morning...weren't those the days?" She apologized for the children's rudeness and ended with humor, chuckling.

_Yeah, you said it..._

You could at least relate to this much. Being energetic in the morning was no longer a possibility.

"That's correct, champ!" Peter's voice rose, giving the kid his answer.

"The puppet will give you your presents when you've all played and had your cake!"

This put a large smile on the boy's face. He looked at his mother and hopped up and down a few times.

"You hear that? So you'll have to wait a bit. But that's okay, we're about to get tokens for the games. You have any in mind you want to play first before everyone else?" She walked her child back to the table, where the same girl who had asked about the checklist earlier set out small cups for the kids to fill at the soda fountain.

"Excuse me..." Another voice called. One of the many mothers had requested your attention.

"Are we supposed to give these to you?" She held several gift bags in her hand but referred to **all** the presents, including the ones back at her table.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused on if you were going to show up at the right time and hand them out, or  _help_ us hand them out." She giggled, trying not to make what could be an easy situation super difficult.

Actually, you weren't sure of this answer yourself. How did Peter want you to hand out the gifts?

You peered over at the spot he was at last, planning on asking him if he hadn't heard the question already.

_Aaaand...No Peter. Figures._

The spot was empty, making you look stupid.

_Well, there was no way in hell you were babysitting a pile of precious bags and gift boxes.._

"How 'bout I help you in handing them out? That way there's no risk of them getting mixed up with another kid's gifts." You found a nice save.

"Good idea! Okay, I'll just go put these back then." She concluded, and you waited for her to leave, but she only continued staring.

_What? What else do you want??_

"Hmm...This whole new set up is so sudden and interesting. Last week it was the same low quality that's been around for years, and now you guys just announced new features and animatronics to come soon. So how exactly did you get the job as being Marionette? Or the puppet, I mean." She asked with genuine curiosity.

You were actually pretty astounded that she was trying to talk to a "character" and not just a regular employee who wasn't dressed up.

In all honesty she was only wanting a few minutes away from her group so she could take a breather, any excuse to be kid-free for a short time. This was innocuous and understandable, but the strict instructions given kept you from carrying on the conversation immediately. The order to not speaking to anyone for too long rang in your head.

_Certainly a minute or two of engaging in small conversations couldn't hurt, could it?_

You would've loved to assume so.

You sacrificed politeness on answering her immediately and darted your vision in several different places until catching sight of Peter himself. He stood in one of the far corners of the restaurant where there wasn't as much light.

His arms were folded lazily and his eyes were dressed in shadow. He wasn't glowering but he wasn't smiling either. He looked completely uninterested with you speaking to her, but not in the same sense that he was _okay_ with it. The woman was an obstacle. He wanted you to move away and cease communication. If you didn't soon his look of boredom was sure to change into something much more irksome.

_Just give a simple answer and leave it be._

"Uhh..I just—" You cleared your throat and dug in your head for a believable reason. 

"—worked here for quite some time and volunteered for the spot when it came up." You answered her in a convincing tone, shrugging your shoulders innocently.

_That outta be enough, right?_

"Off that stage! Both of you!" She surprised you with a holler when seeing two of the party kids attempting to climb on Freddy's stage. Her thoughts on your aberrant behavior were lost as soon as she stomped her way over to yank the two adventurous tykes off. Eventually the two were down and ran, following the direction of where her sharp finger was pointing at, which was to the arcade area.

 _There, happy now?_ You thought when looking back at Peter.

The answer was seeing the difference in his expression, which wasn't dull. It was empty and ready to be replaced again depending on what your actions would be throughout the day. He made a notion with his head, signaling for you to go back and check around the place.

"To look busy" would be a good way of saying it. As long as you didn't look for _him_.

He didn't care if you did absolutely nothing when waiting on birthday parties, but he wouldn't tolerate you being consistent in looking over your shoulder for where he may be.


	9. Temper

Unexpectedly, the role of this new ego became more flexible and comfortable throughout the day. All enthusiasm, however, was shattered after hearing two peculiar adult men converse with each other.

"Pretty interesting how they have a male playing the part of Marionette." One of them said while laughing _almost_ too loudly.

Both these guys looked...well, "trashy" wouldn't be the 100% correct word, but they certainly didn't look decent, either, and both of them were close to being very overweight. They sported scruffy beards, and one of them was balding pretty fast on the top of his head. The same guy wore his remaning long, unkempt hair in a rattail. It wasn't charming in the slightest.

_That doesn't hide the condition you have going on there, buddy._

If only it could be said out loud...

So, to make it extra simple: they looked like the stereotypical uncles almost every family had and were ashamed about. The men must not've sensed any of this as neither of them saw harm in saying the rude comment with you in clear hearing distance. No fucks given.

"Maybe it's because he looks pretty feminine himself." The other said, restarting more of the smoker's-sounding hoarse laughter.

Your eyes glared behind the black craters of the mask. Despite your build you weren't one to easily take bullshit from others, but it wasn't like you could just flip them off like normal.

_Just ignore them, **[First Name]** , those fat sacks of shit don't deserve a reaction from you._

In perfect timing, something else grabbed your attention.

"I don't know...my enthusiasm for this place kind of fell after what happened a month ago..."

You heard two mothers talking at another table, the topic immediately piquing your interest. You turned slightly to eavesdrop without making it obvious.

"You know the teen that went missing a while ago, right? They never found him. Or any leads for that matter."

"But you can't blame Fazbear's for it; the boy left the building on his own and _then_  disappeared. It's not like anyone here is responsible for it. Police already said this restaurant wasn't responsible, otherwise they wouldn't be open. Think about it." The other woman defended this place like it was her own child.

 _Funny. If her_ real _child was the one that went missing, she wouldn't be so relaxed in declaring this place completely innocent._ A voice in your head prodded, most likely from the authentic side of your psyche.

"So you shouldn't let one's misfortune affect everyone else." She added.

Your insides sparked.

_One's WHAT?!_

Now anger was triggered by someone else.

 _Just stop listening in on people. What they say doesn't matter._ You told yourself to help calm down.

Swallowing hard, you immediately felt the painful pinch of a dry throat. The rest of your body was suddenly itchy, seemingly due to a mild sweat breaking.

Scratching around your neck, you were given a quick reminder on how Peter had a "hold" and were certain he still had his eyes on you like daggers. As your fingers prodded the mask, different ideas generated.

Did you literally want to experience the shock of your life if you revealed your face? Would it be worth it?

Your mind carefully dissected the possibilities;

_A shock you'd eventually heal from definitely outweighed the cons in the situation of being rescued._

You ran your nails across the cheek of the mask.

 _But Peter_ had _to know this. If he's been smart enough to mastermind this whole thing and avoid every obstacle thrown at him without relying on luck, who knows what else his shadowy mind is capable of._

Perhaps the maximum level of this device wasn't meant to inflict horrid pain.

Now...you were sure the highest voltage was meant to kill, which wouldn't be worth it...And besides, people here most likely don't even know what you, the "missing teen", _looked_ like. Peter already patched this loop by turning your hair into a relaxed, purple mane.

_And forget about shouting to the world._

You wouldn't get a chance to even  **breathe** before the electricity hit. Most anyone would witness in their eyes would be a crazed employee going nuts before dropping to the floor and dragged away. It'd make quite a story, but it would soon be forgotten about and life would go on. 

You noticed that being still in mediation would look suspicious to anyone...You quickly took your fingers off the mask and faked a few coughs, desperately trying to look innocent, no matter how poor the acting was, all the while abandoning the idea of tearing off the faux face in front of everyone.

A random memory of Peter lightly caressing you suddenly flashed in your mind, caressing your face.

_What if he did more than that? What if he put his tongue on you again—_

"Why? Why NOW?" You whispered, scolding your rogue mind for thinking about his deviant actions and then fantasizing. 

You were once again at war with yourself and struggled to find distractions to filter out these abnormal thoughts. Dizziness splashed over like a wave, and you barely noticed the children gathering near for one final picture before leaving the restaurant. 

"Alright everyone, say cheese!" One of the mother's hollered, and the kids repeated the most over-used word known to photography. As soon as they were done, Peter had finally emerged from the corners and began to verbally usher them out.

"Alright folks, Fazbear's will be closing in just five minutes! I do hope you've all had a wonderful and fun experience!"

You watched the families go, exiting through the doors and showing a glimpse of the late pastel sky. You weren't aware of two more lingering guests; the pair of assholes who were pestering earlier, still taking their time. They seemed to be bent on getting a negative reaction out of you.

"Maybe we'll see you at the gentlemen's club later tonight, eh?" The chubbier one commented as his buddy laughed.

Your body temperature rose. You turned away, giving off every impression of disregard. But the blood within you was boiling, and they most likely sensed it, given the smug grins on their faces. Despite all this you were sure this would be the end of the heckling.

One of them came up from behind.

"Don't have too much fun, doll-face." He snickered as you felt his hand smack your ass.

_That did it._

Temper erupted like an explosion. You grabbed the closest half-empty cup of soda from the nearest table and hurled it at the men while they walked out.

"Fffffuck **you**!" You hissed through the mask.

The cup struck directly on the side of the chubbier man's red face, dark contents splashing them both and ice splashing everywhere, like shattered glass.

" _You little fucking punk_!" One of them yelled, immediately capturing the attention of other employees, including Peter.

The staff here must've known what to do when guests or another staff member went out of control, for you felt two larger hands grab both your arms as two male employees had you.

"Don't do it man. Just leave it." One of them said as an attempt to calm everything down. This was when Peter stepped in, making half your anger instantly subside. He wasn't looking at you just yet; his sight was on the two men you had just assaulted.

"The fat bastard touched me!" You informed him, angrily.

Peter still didn't spare a glimpse.

Astonishingly, both men looked regretful, as if they  **knew** they had fucked up by being the ones to start the conflict first. Peter finally glanced in your direction, but was looking at the employees.

"Let him go." He commanded.

Their grip lightly loosened, fingers slowly uncurling, but didn't let go all the way just yet.

"Should we call the police? Just in ca—"

"No!" Peter aggressively cut off the guy who dared asking.

"Get off me!" You jerked out of their grip, and they reluctantly released, letting you tread away back to a far end of the restaurant where the faint-lit hallway was, along with the hidden room. Picking this spot wasn't your intention, but you naturally went somewhere alone when fuming. It took several more minutes to calm down completely. Or mostly. It was enough to where you were able to focus on surroundings again, first being the walls of this particular hallway.

Multiple pinned-up Fazbear crew drawings littered the space. Most of them were...antique. They were of only Freddy and Bonnie, and they were yellow, or "gold" as Peter put it. One picture stood out; it was amongst the few that were actually decent and not just careless scribbling.

Bonnie. His body was drawn from two giant perfect circles, most likely traced from paper plates or something of the sort. The anonymous artist did a hell of a job on the details, from the mouth, ears, paws, all right down to the bow tie and buttons. His redolent eyes were what filled you with sudden unease, for they were white and slightly sunken in and just soulless.

There was a Fredbear drawing that looked like it came from the same artist. It too had all its details as neatly done as Bonnie's, including the white empty eyes.

Those two drawings...they stirred up another odd feeling. You weren't sure how it could be described, but the two yellow characters seemed to hypnotize you with their empty, somber eyes.

Similar to some form of astral projection, it was almost like your conscience was being sucked _into_ the drawings, surrounded by the aged dark backdrop that, in some way, resembled the restaurant—

" **PUPPET**!"

Being thrown back into existence felt like a punch to the side of your head, and to add onto it, you were grabbed hard again and thrown onto the opposite wall, getting the breath knocked out. You didn't fight back against the swift, violent man-handling or the force of being pushed back into the hidden room.

Your palms scraped against the tile floor before you turned over and looked up at Peter's angry eyes. His teeth were bared and glimmering in the dim light with some of his long side bangs dangling and touching your face. It almost tickled.

"You need... To control... Your fucking... **TEMPER**!" He snarled, spraying tiny beads of saliva.

Facial exposure revealed he had ripped the mask off at some point when you were still in the mental twilight zone. Cold sweat made your relaxed fly-aways stick to your forehead. The long bangs kept their moderate cover over your eyes, making the image of him look skewed and slightly sadistic and... _purple_.

You had no clue on how to even explain yourself. You were limp under his dominating grip. However, you  **did** accept the fact that things had gone too far with the guests. Remorse surfaced; you had fucked up, _and you fucked up royally._

"Do you have ANY idea what would've happened if law enforcement had been dragged into this?!"

You remained immobile and pressed against the floor. His hot breath forced your bangs out of your eyes to where his deranged face was seen better. His eyes were more gleamy than usual, but one thing was clear; they screamed of anger.

_If there was one thing that sent him flying off the handle, it was the barely dodging the bullet that would've made him lose everything._

"I—" You started, having no idea where the nerve to speak came from.

"They were heckling me. And one of them touched me—Touched my ASS. I couldn't NOT do anything about it..."

It was strange how honest you were being without anxiety, but at the same time there was no emotion in your voice. It was like he was sucking the truth from your lungs with no effort.

His eyes seem to lightly soften. Just barely. From what you could tell he may have understood why you reacted the way you did, but it wasn't the same as being okay with it. The fact police could've shown up was enough to roil his rage on the whole situation. He grabbed your shoulder, leaving a print. He leaned in again. 

"Whatever may happen with the guests who come in, you let ME handle it! Remember, I'M the one in control! Are you forgetting that??"

"No. I'm not." 

"Then remind me; Who's in control?" He asked, wanting to hear the words that would reassure him and extinguish the ire.

"You are." You answered, vision locked on his gaze.

His eyes were still those glassy orbs. The whites were perfect with no traces of veins or redness, even with all the fury. If anything was different it was his irises. They looked to be... _larger_! The darkness seemed to swallow up a portion of the whites more than what was normal.

They were unnaturally large.

 _No...No, that wasn't possible. You're just forgetting what they looked like before._ You tried correcting yourself. Peter was still human; just like you, no matter how perfect some of his physical features seemed to be. He was just...unique.

 _He was unique alright._ Your satire mocked.

You waited for him to get off and let you stand back up. He only pulled back a few inches.

"At least I didn't break any of your rules and screw up real bad though, huh?"

Something inside just couldn't resist. There was enough self-control to stop the smirk wanting to play about, but as for Peter—

"That mouth of yours..." He stated chillingly.

_You earned this one, dumbass. This is what happens when you test him. Maybe you'll start learning and know when to shut the hell up from now on._

You prepped for what violent action was about to take place, because you were sure one was about to happen.

Before you could take another breath, his hot lips were on your mouth he had just called out seconds ago, and time stopped that very moment, with your cold body spiking its temperature to feverish conditions. The physical gasp was stolen by his maw, sliding its wet tongue down your throat.

So many rushed emotions all at once—this was the first time you had a lip-lock with another male, and the instinct to shove him off like a normal heterosexual guy was absent.

This is what your mind constantly day dreamed about when unoccupied. It thought of nothing more than the physical contact with Peter, who had been stringing it along. And now it was finally happening.

_It all had manifested._

Your insides exploded, sending waves of forbidden pleasure throughout your body, paralyzing you into full submission.

With each passing second you melted into the taboo. Your tongue greeted the presence of the wet visitor, intertwining with it and exchanging saliva.

His taste was interesting. In no way was it bad. It was good...in just a very interesting way. The flavor wasn't something that could be directly pinpointed, but if you could use one word for a best description, it was something like...

 _Spicy_.

But not peppery, more like cinnamon-y. Spicy with maybe a tiny hint of tobacco, but that was stretching it. Whatever it may be, it was very enjoyable to the mouth.

No pun intended.

His beads of hot saliva rolled down your tongue and to your throat. He pulled off fast and brushed your lips with his tongue.

"You're loving thisss." He whispered almost into your mouth when going in again. This time it was short, and he pulled away from you, causing the typical smacking sound.

"Arrren't you?" 

"Y-yes..." You got around to responding, your inner thighs were almost cramping with the excitement between them.

He lightly bit down on your bottom lip, making you wince at first until he started sucking on it. The sensation was very new, and you almost had to pull away. For a moment you noticed he might've lost himself in this as much as you did. Whatever control he had seemed to be gone when he let go and met with your mouth again. The make-out session felt like hours. In reality, only a minute had passed.

He had closed his eyes, but then reopened them, and when he did his actual pupils were seen for the first time. They were tiny, but expanded after realizing you were looking right into them. They extinguished your body heat to a sizzle.

He pulled off for the final time, leaving you with a large trail of goo running down your mouth, concocted by the salivation of the both of you. He didn't look any better, but he fixed this by simply wiping his face with the back of his hand.

You were silent while staring at him in wait. Waiting for the next action. You wanted more. He knew you wanted more _, but he wasn't going to give you any more._

Not now.

"But I still need to teach you a lesson... You **will** learn how to control yourself, Puppet." He stated lowly while standing, leaving you on the ground.

Before you could ask what he meant, he already had the damned remote out, and hit the button labeled 4. There was only time to let out another bewildered gasp.


	10. Child folklore

*

The day was still young without a cloud in the sky, bringing out the shade of blue immensely. The air was a little crisp with the colder months soon to kick in. It made your fingers almost a little too uncomfortable with holding the lighter to burn a cancer stick. It barely got to your mouth when you saw several kids coming your way from a side of the parking lot. The immediate recognition of who they actually were kicked up a small panic.

You quickly put out the cigarette before the trio of little girls, including your sister, could notice you even holding it as they continued their walk toward you. There was a stream of frustration in your nerves as you didn't even get a single puff.

However, losing it was for the best because the mother of one of your sister's friends was with the girls. Luckily she hadn't seen it in your possession, either. To make sure it stayed this way, you kicked it near a trash can. The trio's walking turned into prancing and skipping when they recognized who you were.

" **[First Name]**!!" Kayla was first to confirm, her voice squeaky as usual.

You never understood how it was so thrilling for her to run into you somewhere outside the house. Then again you didn't all care. You were already in a grumpy mood due to the loss of your long hair. It had been freshly cut, and you were still getting used to the cool breeze being able to effortlessly pass through your now short strands and chill your scalp.

You averted your gaze, not rewarding her shouts with attention. It didn't do much good since she was still dancing around you with her two friends repeating your name and giggling about how cute you were.

" **[First Name]**?"

 _Now_ you were forced to take notice. You responded to the woman's perky voice with an empty look.

"Now what are YOU doing at the library on a weekend?" She asked innocently while the girls kept giggling stupidly at their inaudible (but easily guessable) whispers to each other.

"Reading books." You gave her the smart ass answer.

Like your own mother she was very patient, even when it came to sassy and snarky comments from kids. She didn't look or feel the slightest bit of offended when you said this. She only smiled and ushered the girls inside.

"Well, you stay out of trouble, sweetheart!" Was her last comment. Or so you thought.

You gave a mocking, weak salute with your hand in response.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" You heard Kayla shriek.

One of her friends also informed she too had to use the restroom.

"Alright, Cady, you stay out here with **[First Name]** for just a second while we use the restroom."

Your muscles tensed in sheer annoyance. You almost forgot this woman had a bad habit of volunteering people against their will.

"Is that okay with you, **[First Name]**?" She asked, shockingly. But you still had bubbling urge to refuse or just walk back inside yourself.

"It's cool with me." You answered without looking. Your bad mood was still as fresh as baked goods right out of an oven, but you always had that one helpful bone in your body. You cursed yourself for it.

When the other two brats and mother were absent, the girl suddenly didn't seem so shy to open up. She twisted and turned her body to twirl the lower part of her dress in attempt to look graceful. It appeared a little pitiful instead, but perhaps cute in an adorable way. If you were feeling a bit more positive you may have smiled and possibly laughed at her performance.

"We're all going to Freddy Fazbear's after this! Mrs. K said she would take us!" The eager girl told you excitedly.

"Cool." You responded to her "exciting" news with barely any tone. Bizarrely, you were fairly tolerant of her. This may had to do with your tolerance only accepting one kid in your presence at a time.

"Woooood you wanna come with us?" She started the question off as slow, still brushing away her shyness. Her twirls became a little more hyper, anxious at what your response would be. She was desperately hoping you'd take the offer, all to please the little kid crush she had on you.

"No thanks." You answered rather quick, almost laughing at the thought of going to such a place at your age.

Surprisingly she wasn't bummed out by this or set back. She abandoned her twirls and started lightly hopping up and down out of boredom this time before talking again, keeping the topic on Fazbear's.

"So, have you heard of the things that happen there? At the restrant?" She started, still unable to properly pronounce "restaurant" at her age. She didn't seem real ashamed of this since she was more focused on making her voice sound overly mystical.

"Ohh? You mean the things like...birthday parties??" You replied, smiling at the dick humor that refused to cease.

Instead of feeling remotely stupid, Cady giggled pretty hard.

"Nooo! I mean the robots. They say the robots come to life at night and walk around! My friend at school SWEARS she saw Freddy looking out of a window one night! They also say the robots will KILL anyone if they're inside the place at night time! And some people say you can see old blood stains on their bodies if you look reeeeaaal hard enough!" She kept going on about the fairly disturbing "rumors" that people apparently made up about Fazbear's.

 _My God, how in the world did she hear about all this? How is she OKAY with hearing about all this??_ You wondered, slightly concerned about how she wasn't scaring herself with this subject. It almost made you wish you hadn't tossed your cigarette.

_Time to kill this shit dead..._

"Oh really? And who's 'THEY'? Who came up with all this?" You challenged her. You had no problem putting an end to the ridiculous entertaining rumors she seemed to enjoy feeding on. Still surprisingly, she wasn't discouraged. She kept her smile and chewed on her lip while rolling her eyes up and around, as if scanning the sky for something.

She eventually shrugged hard.

"I don't knooow!" She finally answered, finishing off with a giggle. Luckily by this time, Mrs. K had come back out and called to her.

She tore away from you and head on inside. You were thanked, and that was the end to that.

When they were finally out of sight and away entirely, you couldn't help but to dig in the back of your mind and wonder if any of those rumors were true. They were certainly rather morbid.

_Fazbear's having evil creations that killed people._

Not even YOU heard of such things when young and running around there.

Why now?

_The things kids came up with.._

You moved away from the spot and treaded to another outside part of the building where you were sure the girls wouldn't be finding you again, and pulled out another cigarette. This time you'd be getting to enjoy a real break without interruption. By the time it was halfway gone the damn rumors were still on your mind.

Certainly they weren't real! It was all just folklore in a kid's head.

_Child folklore..._


	11. Trip

It was the second day as the Puppet,

—after your neck was halfway healed and your chest was back to feeling normal, minus the few palpitations your heart gave every once in a while, but all eventually faded. It took a little less than a week, but the lesson had sunken in deeper than the voltage.

All things considered, Peter's trust with you was growing more rapidly than expected. By the time your wound was a nice nightly shade of purple he'd remove the electronic device for the second but final time.

It didn't take as much effort as previously imagined but you managed to not let anger get the best of you. Then again no fat bastards were there to heckle this time, which helped. All in all it would've been best to not communicate with anyone, not even the kids.

During this whole time you had even forgotten about the neck-splitting device (not) being around your neck. You had your reminder when scratching around the area, only to bounce a finger off the ugly bruise after causing minor pain.

This would be the first night to close, so you weren't sure on what Peter wanted to happen from here after all the guests were gone and the staff were leaving one after the other. You were in favor of returning yourself to The Room since no other ideas sprung. You got to the desolate hallway, but the door... it was practically non existent. There wasn't a handle anywhere let alone a lining for a door.

Where the hell was it and how the hell were you supposed to get back in?

 _I_ know _I'm not fucked up right now,_ you thought, positive this was the way you came out from. Luckily Peter had come around the corner with a somber look that slightly shifted to amusement when seeing you waiting on him.

Something vibrant was in his hand. 

_A cupcake?_

It was one of Fazbear's pastries.

"There's a good boy." He said.

"And  _this_ is something for you to snack on while I inspect the work these jack-offs did before they left."

"Keep holding it. You'll give Chica a run for her money on the cupcake-catering bitch." You said. 

"Uhuh." He responded vapidly, unaffected by your humor while he reached for a certain area of the wall. He lifted up what appeared to be a small patch. It looked more like a flap.

He stuck a key inside, turned it, and pulled on a latch. The existence of the door was reintroduced.

_The way it was created...it couldn't be more hidden._

Whoever built this location was determined to keep this specific room from seeing the light of day. It was practically disturbing.

You could try thinking a kid's restaurant wouldn't have some dark secret like this, but Peter's own mysteries would put it to shame.

"You deserve a little treat. You've done well, Puppet." He softly commanded while entering with you. He prodded your chest with the pastry until you finally grabbed it out of his hand.

"Good boy." He said with his large grin.

You frowned at the "praise".

_I'm not a fucking dog, asshole. You already put a damn collar on me. Don't start giving me treat rewards. I'm not your damned pet!_

"I'll be back later when everything's finished. Enjoy." 

He left.

Your eyes lingered back to the frosted cupcake. It wore a generous amount of delicate fuchsia-shaded frosting.

 _Pink?_ You questioned, knowing the restaurant also had the option of blue, depending on the birthday child's gender.

_He did this on purpose. Trying to find some way to just mess with you._

Well, it worked.

You gritted your teeth and silently grumbled at his way of classifying you.

You were a millisecond away from crushing the pastry in your hand and hurling against the wall until its sugary scent made you second guess.

 _On the other hand, you_ were _hungry._

You hadn't eaten anything since that morning, when Peter gave several slices of pizza from the kitchen. It seemed to be a mundane routine so far.

Sighing, you gave into this rewarded "treat", starting with the frosting first. It was finished fast, and within minutes the craving for sugar was stronger than ever, like you were starving.

 _More..._  

Your stomached cramped in hunger.

 _No!_ You refrained.

_Don't be like THAT._

You attempted to straighten out when your gurgling stomach quickly settled.

Hunger was no longer on the top of your list. This time it was sleep pushing its way up, like you had just downed sleeping pills. Your head slowly submerged into a swirling sensation, making you almost topple over. You quickly surrendered and curled up on the floor.

For once it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. There wasn't really a wonder as to why in the hell you were passing out like this. It wasn't a normal process of sleep stages where it steadily descended. It was step one of being wide awake to step...black out.

There was no recollection of experiencing any dreams. It was all an empty slate of unconsciousness. When you _where_ in a normal natural stage of sleep it was one of waking up. There was enough drowsiness to encourage you to fall back into slumber, but it was strangely fast in disappearing. You weren't tired but you weren't wide awake, either. It was an almost disproportionate in-between.

You slowly lifted your head and your blood rushed before you could even get situated into a mere sitting position.

_Good Lord..._

The light-headedness was immensely unpleasant and took too long to leave. There was a light pounding in the back of your eyes. You decided it was time to stand up and see if you could walk out into the hallway. It was obvious the chances were slim, but you wanted to get out of the spot you felt so damn physically strange in. Your skin was unnaturally tingly and you felt like scratching yourself into bloody ribbons. 

You got several steps away from the closed door, and like a bipolar chameleon your body changed instantly. The insides at least.

You were acutely taken aback by the so sudden erection your body sprouted from between two half-tired legs.

 _A Goddamn hard-on for no reason._  

This was surely foreign. You knew you had just woken up but this was beyond a normal case of morning wood.  _And the need to touch it was even greater..._ but did you really have the time and boldness to just whip it out? You were practically sweating _,_ and yet there was still no reason to even be having one. You were partially tired and dizzy and confused and in a place that gave little to no urges.

Unless... _Unless it happened to be Peter..._

Your extra limb suddenly throbbed hard, making every other muscle tense up just to resist.

_Just resist!_

But it was too painful to resist.

You took a few deep breaths and pressed your hot face to the wall's tile, cooling you down. It slightly helped in relaxation, but your mind was permanently switched over to the thoughts of sex.

You were a virgin but knew what sex was and how it worked. You read the health books in class and were given the speech of love and abstinence, ect. It was unfortunate to say you weren't entirely sure what to expect, but you at least had a good idea. There were plenty of guys from school that were more..."experienced" than you. They all promised similar but good things about...

fucking _._

You were intrepid and daring, but could never find yourself going that far with anyone. A part of you was ashamed and self-conscious.  **Every** guy was scoring in school...weren't they?

You pushed away from the wonder. These thoughts no longer mattered—not when you were away from the outside world and kept captive.

 _Who's going to give a shit about what you did when no one even knew where you were? Most of them probably think you're dead._  

You were close to sweeping the wild lustful thoughts away completely, but like persistent pests they came back with greater numbers. The image and memory of Peter's violent mouth on yours blinked.

 _God, not him again._  You growled at yourself for using  **him** as generator for your body's rogue antics...

You weren't gay! You WEREN'T GAY!—

 _But you loved the aggressive touch and treatment..._ you were becoming obsessed with it.

But _...what would your_ parents  _think??_

Pretending you still lived at home with a normal life, you put together a "what if" situation on how they may react if you suddenly decided to try and experiment with the same sex.

They would most certainly not approve, that's what they would think. Knowing how they were they'd probably stick you in classes that tried to cure teenagers of the condition they thought was completely unnatural and immoral. Your frivolous shame was putting the worries of judgement over the (much more) importance of safety.

Your parents weren't here. _They weren't here to help you and they certainly weren't here to judge you or make you do anything that fit_ their _liking._ Your dark rebel emerged and it was like all worries no longer existed. Your legs were aching. _They ached so bad...they ached so good.._

You finally found a hand slipping down your abdomen, meeting the tip of your pants.

Just before you could unzip and commence in the relief of a sore member, a noise snapped you out of your foggy state, and your half-closed eyes widened. With your head against the wall you could conveniently hear through to an extent. There was the chime of instruments playing. It sounded like Fazbear's band.

_They were still running?_

You had the new urge of investigation filling your ever-changing system, but there was also the sense to not go anywhere and to just stay put. Before any other decisions could be made, something hit your nostrils hard; the very familiar smell of food. Your appetite skyrocketed.

_It was getting to be too irresistible._

You straightened out your legs—that were now bizarrely calm—and finished your destination. The knob moved down without fuss, opening the door. Your mind wasn't focused enough to think on how odd it was for it to be unlocked. 

The aroma of pizza and pastries waved. Though you were technically tired of the particular food, there was something about it now that made you want to devour every bite. The sound of the Fazbear band was back, sounding moderately different.

As soon as you stepped out of the shadows everything brightened, defying physics.

The entire restaurant was decorated in even more streamers and confetti. The animatronics on stage were unfamiliar. They looked like the new toy models the company planned on using after this building closed. Although it was sudden, you couldn't help but to admire how good they looked. Especially Chica.

 _Chica looked exceptionally attractive,_ the silly boy part of your mind wandered to the inappropriate, sex-craved side again. Only for a minute.

Then the food was seen. Every table held stacks of pizza and cakes. You were ready to jump on them and dig in—

" **[First Name]**!"

It was...

 _Her_ voice, your sister's!

Your vision tore and saw her standing onstage with the toys.

You called her name, almost hysteric. You ran to meet her, leaping over a few chairs. For the first time in forever you were glad to see your little sister. She jumped off the stage and met your hug.

"Look at Foxy!" She insisted.

Your attention turned to Pirate Cove, which had a more colorful tone to it. The curtains opened and revealed the new white fox who looked much more friendlier. He had what seemed to be a puppet of the older version on his hand.

It began to move and talk.

**How come it takes so long for a pirate to learn the alphabet?**

**Because they spend years at "C"!**

A childish joke, but it somehow conjured a laugh.

"C'mon, let's eat!" Kayla demanded and pulled you to a table. The thoughts of Peter and just straight up reality were insignificant.

After settling at a table the both of you wolfed down pizza slices. You eventually got to a pink cupcake and took a large bite, making sure to get loads of frosting.

Your tastebuds suddenly rejected the flavor, which was supposed to be sweet, but tasted bitter and chalky. You spat the bite out and let the rest of it drop. It was nothing like the one from earlier.

"Oh fuck!" You had even said. 

"Hey, what was that for? They're good!" Kayla said as she dug into her own cupcake without sharing the same reaction.

Common sense steadily returned; something wasn't right.

**Hey, what do a scarecrow and the Puppet have in common?**

**They both don't have a brain!**

Foxy chanted with his buddy again.

"What?" You glanced back.

"That's a funny one!" Kayla shouted with a full mouth, crumbs dropping. 

Next to the toy fox on the stage floor was a black heap of the puppet—the thing you were dressed up as. It laid sprawled out, as if someone had dropped it there.

 **Gather 'round, boys and girls! Come meet Marionette!**  
**Don't be afraid now, for this fool is no threat!**  
**A real mind of his own he possesses _not_ ,**  
**Without his puppeteer he is helpless without thought!**

Foxy chanted a strange introduction about the thing laying near his feet.

The girl next to you couldn't stop laughing.

**[First Name]? Who's [First Name]? There's no sentient with such name!  
There is only the Puppet and the puppeteer's game!**

"The hell is going on..." You said, standing up from the table and finally questioning every detail.

"Hey, you can't swear!" Kayla squeaked.

"How are you even _here_? Where's mom and dad?..."

As soon as you asked this the notes of the Fazbear band began to mutate and spill off-key. She looked up at you, her eyes dim with her pupils massive.

"Who cares?" She answered dully.

"What..." 

"Oh lookatTHAT!" She pointed back at the stage with new excitement.

You glanced in the direction, and almost lost it from sheer terror.

The old animatronics were coming out from behind the far back curtains. They were all withered, as if slowly decaying, more chunks and tears missing from their bodies.

Bonnie was missing his damn face! ...And an arm. His red endoskeleton eyes were completely exposed. The bottom jaw was still there with a row of teeth accompanied by a second row, most likely belonging to the skeleton. It was something you could've gone your entire life without seeing.

Chica looked even more horrible, bearing no hands... only cords and cables hung from the sockets, like dangling tendons. Her eyes were sunken in and her beak looked as if someone had tried to pull it off but only succeeded halfway.

**Looks like everyone's here! Let's rock out the band!**

Toy Freddy declared, and the music started back up, but everything continued to carry on off-key and lower pitched.

The rotting animatronics played no music of their own. They were walking off the stage _toward_  you and your sister, and a moan of dread pushed passed your lips.

And things only continued to get worse.

Bonnie was the first to hop off and land with a _thud_ , causing his insides to rattle violently. You swore you saw drops of dark liquid sweat out and sprinkle the floor. Noises came from all of them. It sounded like they were **groaning** very faintly, like tired zombies.

You finally grabbed Kayla.

"We need to get the fuck out of here! NOW!"

Even though self awareness was returning at an exceptional level, something inside just wished the girl accompanying you was at least _real,_  and because of this you desperately tried getting her to move as the putrid robots were now only feet away. She grunted in protest and you resorted to just dragging her across the floor carpet. You ceased when your sights fell on the yellow mobile Freddy.

_That damned suit!_

He was joined by the yellow Bonnie; they were blocking the way to the exit.

"Get up!" You yelled to your most likely **fake** sister, but the girl had gone back to the stage and cheered on the band of off-tuned toys as the other animatronics continued stalking. The feeling of something soft but robotic roughly grabbed you with unreal speed. You screamed out and tried kicking off the restraining things as best you could.

The rotting, nightmarish animatronics were still closing in as it turned out you were being held by the yellow Bonnie suit. Then.....

they all just stopped.

Faceless Bonnie was the closest. His exposed skeleton hand reached out, but he didn't touch.

 _These hellish things were alive,_ your mind finally comprehended.

You were close to hyperventilating and your senses picked up on a pong coming from the animatronic—from the whole _lot_ of them. Your stomach churned and you were forcefully turned in another direction.

Staring at you now was Marionette. The puppet had also sprang to life and left Foxy's stage. Levitating in the air, it resembled a floating, spidery phantom.

 _This had to be another fucked up dream, it just_ had _to be._  

But things felt too real. The touch and the smells were just too real.

The puppet approached near and used its long fingers to poke itself in the chest right above the first white button. Then it pointed to you...and back to itself.

**The reason why he does this goes unsaid  
But what he's ignorant of is that he's one with the DEAD!**

You heard the nearby toy Foxy shout before a high-pitched, demented scream filled your ears as the animatronics closed in.


	12. Birthday surprise

You heaved five or six times before collapsing onto the cold bathroom floor, not even remembering how you came to be there in the first place. Only thing known was that this "trip" felt too real. The smell of carrion from the decaying animatronics still lingered in your sinuses. It spiked another dosage of nausea, and you instinctively leaned back over the toilet, but there was nothing left to vomit.

Thankfully, all horrific fragrances subsided as did the feeling of sickness.

Eventually.

It took a few moments for a bit of strength to start returning, but you managed to push yourself up and stand over by the sinks.

You took deep breaths and stared at your reflection in the mirror, moving the stuck hair out of your eyes so you could inspect the damage. You were completely pale, but there was no wonder to that. Your eyes were bloodshot, as if the vessels within had busted. Another thing noticed was the confetti all over the front of your black "uniform".

 _Odd_. 

Your long purple hair was also damp from sweat.

After getting a good look you turned on one of the sinks and ran both your wrists under the cool water.

It felt too good.

Next you splashed your face and rinsed with the faucet water. It looked stupid but you couldn't stand vomit flavoring your saliva. You gargled and spat and repeated several times before finally feeling clean; as clean as you could get at least. Shutting everything off, you took a moment to regather lost thoughts.

You remembered Peter leaving a cupcake. Then...that fucked up trip.

You weren't innocent when it came to the knowledge on drugs, the bad ones. But being subjected to them never crossed your mind. Worse thing you've ever done was weed but it didn't have any effects like what was just experienced. It had to have been something completely different and worse...much worse.

Was that really what was in the pastry? _Did he lace the cupcake?_

If so, then why? What was in it for him that he had to screw around with your mind?

_He's been doing that since day one._

You were reminded he'd been toying with your sanity everyday. It's just this time he wrecked you to the next level. And it wasn't pleasant, especially after being teased in seeing your family again and seeing...those monstrous animatronics. The horrid details your mind created about them were still fresh. The sudden fear of leaving the bathroom grated your nerve.

You were actually fearing the rotting ones from your conscious nightmare would be standing on stage.

 _That couldn't happen. It wasn't real!_  

You took six steps away from the sink and were partially out the bathroom before peering out. All curtains were closed. For the first time you wanted to be back in The Room, where nothing could be a bother.

When your head cleared more you became aware of the night repeating itself with no Peter to be seen.

_So did this mean there was another possible chance of escape?_

Your real side insisted you tried, but the alt refused, and you remembered how it ended last time; He said he was basically watching the whole time. For all you knew he could be watching **now**.

You took a breath and picked up your courage. You walked out but weren't exactly positive on where to go. The exits weren't a choice, you didn't want to give Him a reason to come at you again—with another injection. No, not another drug! If there was anything in life right now you feared more than the nightmare animatronics, it was being on another trip.

You stayed near the tables, observing a particular one in the middle. The party hats were on the floor, a few crushed. The usual sprinkled confetti covering the table was smeared out and splashing the floor.

You glanced down at your shirt again.

 _Were_ you _the one to actually mess up this table?_

Well... no denying it; this was the spot you were at when hallucinating and thought you were eating food.

_But it felt so real for fuck's sake!_

You caught something alarming in the corner of your eye. It looked like the fucking yellow Bonnie suit.

You whirled around and saw nothing.

 _Still drugged_... You grumbled silently and started walking from the tables to the arcade machines. They gave off little light but enough to see comfortably around as usual.

Your insides took a massive jolt when immediately seeing a reflection on one of the screens.

_The faceless Bonnie!_

You turned around, nearly jumping back and slamming into an arcade screen.

The empty tables and shut curtains were the only things greeting back.

_Of course..._

You wrapped an arm around yourself. The shirt being worn was beginning to feel hot, itchy, and overall uncomfortable. There was a desperate impulse to strip yourself of the nasty thing, but there was nothing else to wear.

"Fuck it." You said aloud to the nothingness and pulled off the top coverage, throwing it onto one of the arcade machines, blanketing its bright lights. The cool air hitting your bare upper body felt beyond refreshing.

Being able to roam free in the main part of the restaurant made you wonder if the soda fountains were working. Your throat was parched. However, when you turned to where the kitchen area was, you saw a sight that made your pupils shrink. It was the figure of a man.

Peter?

 _Please be just another fucking hallucination!!!_ Your mind begged, but the silhouette spoke the second it was acknowledged.

"Good to see you awake."

The voice confirmed who it was, and there was an awkward silence. Then you found your voice.

"Asshole, you fucking laced me..."

He snickered.

"WHY!? What the hell was that for?!" You sharply demanded. There was no enjoyment in what you had just experienced. You were still _suffering_ from it!

"Just letting you have a bit of fun." He answered.

"Fun?? That wasn't any fun!!"

He still wasn't moved, and if all the events with him since being here didn't convince you he was more dangerous than originally thought, something **else** was about to.

He stepped out of the shadows and you were able to fully see him. His obsidian eyes gleamed from the arcade lights. Another familiar scent hit, something dead and something copper-y. You got your answer when seeing his hands. They were covered in blood, still even dripping like he had just dipped them in a vat of artery fluid, and by the evidence stacking up it wasn't his own.

Every ounce of bold courage within you had all but fled. Before he could take another step closer you found yourself turning around and fleeing. With fight mode gone it was all up to flight.

"Don't run from me, Puppet!!" He shouted and cursed in a lower tone than usual.

There was absolutely no plan on where to flee to, but _anywhere_ worked. You jumped over a couple tables—the first one was cleared, the second one wasn't without having a bad fall. Your weakened body was unable to take the extra abuse, causing you to collapse to your hands and knees and utter a wince of pain.

He was closing in.

You commanded yourself back to your feet, and continued running, but he was already upon you. His hand came down and threw you to the side of the stage apron, painting your side and upper arm with the red substance gloving his hands. You were now facing him, and felt petrified. You were sure he was about to add to the crimson collection on his hands by ending your existence here.

He breathed hard, but you weren't sure if this was due to the sudden sprint or just inner fury for having to chase after.

Or both.

His hand came up this time and grabbed your jaw. It was wet, and the rotten, metallic scent violated your nostrils.

"Don't...try that..again. Ever." He fumed.

You could tell that whatever he had been during earlier he was still pumped with the adrenaline, and was taking the rest out on you.

Your eyes tore from his own to the new light spilling onto the tables behind him.

The stage was opening.

He must've been expecting this as he didn't seem concerned. He must've planned it.

The curtains opened all the way, showing off the same old moderately torn and withered Fazbear band. None of them made a sound. They stood there, as if getting a front row seat to your torture.

Peter leaned in and his tongue glided across your neck—the unbruised side. Your eyes widened and a familiar rush of heat spread throughout your body. The slimy muscle traveled from your collar bone up to the side of your face, just below the area where skin met ear, leaving a generous trail as it went.

Out of nowhere your hot-headed courage came crashing back, possibly from his intentions. You pulled away from his hand (and tongue) and met his gaze with your own.

Your mouth fell into a visible snarl and your eyes leered. This only gave Him an amplitude of amusement. He grinned, looking hubristic and sinister as usual. You hated the mocking look he gave; that he  **always** gave whenever he struck a nerve. Putting both your hands on his shoulders, you attempted to shove him off.

It wouldn't be happening.

Not only was he obviously stronger by a far amount, you were also too weak to really apply angry force to anything. Attempting to push him only made you press harder against the wall he had you pinned on. You let out several grunts from strive, then caught your breath, and he snickered.

"Why the sudden change NOW? You seemed just fine with it last time." He teased.

You were at a legitimate loss, unsure how to respond. Because...you were thinking the same exact thoughts.

 _Why_ did _you suddenly have a problem with his physical affections?_

He leaned in.

"Is it because you think it's wrong?" He asked in your ear. 

"You didn't think any of this could exist?"

He pulled back and met your gaze (which was no longer glaring). You were chagrined, but kept silent. His smile went cheshire. He went for your other ear, softly speaking.

"How's it feel? Knowing there's more to the world than what you've been taught by the small, ludicrous, laughable minds belonging to the unintelligent creatures you call your par—"

You didn't let him finish. You went with what seemed to be a favorable tactic when your hands weren't much help; you bit. **Hard**. Right on his neck.

He hitched in breath, but he didn't yelp or even grunt. He pulled himself out and his grin intensified. With a lust. 

"You aren't very experienced in this, are you?" He asked with a wild look. He gave you no chance to answer. His own teeth sank in just above your collar bone.

At first it was painful, enough to make you try and squirm while yelling out. After a few seconds his jaw loosened and he let go, only to bring his tongue back to wriggling the spot.

Your pain ceased, morphing into a tickle and conjuring gooseflesh. Your temperature spiked again. His teeth lightly grated the now slimed part of your neck, and he consumed it again without biting. He sucked your skin hard, but not too hard. All the nerves in your lower body awoke, and you took an audible deep breath. You almost missed the seconds where he fondled the white spiked belt until it fell to the floor. Your heart nearly bursted from your chest as you naturally tried pulling back.

But he wouldn't beletting you pull back. His hand brushed over the large bulge you were partially unaware of. You grunted in un-approval and tried again to push him off. He matched it with a dark, playful sound whilst pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes lasers. With his bangs longer than your own, it aided him perfectly in a typical, sinister stare-down.

"You act like you've never had an erection before, Puppet."

Everything was still for a couple seconds before he suddenly had your pants undone and grabbed onto your full erection.

"UH!..." You instinctively let out when a spike of nerves bellowed from the aggressive hold. It felt like a fire down there as part of you was trying to completely reject the building pleasure, but the other part was embracing it, clashing into one giant, hormonal argument. Your pulse rose as did your chest from ventilation. It got to the point where you had no choice but to pant like some filthy animal.

Your vision was slightly blurring from your reluctant brain, but you saw a look of displeasure from Him. He wouldn't be accepting the self-battle you were having. He gave a pump with his hand, and your body jolted. The other side was slowly winning.

He leaned in again, putting his thumb on the tip. You bit on your lower lip hard and tightly shut your eyes for other reasons than just not having to look at him.

"You've never been touched like this before... _have_ you?" His voice was close to your face again, scentless breath filling your nose.

You didn't answer. Your mind was too focused on your lower body. You trembled as all your energy worked against you and doing everything it could to make you submit to the most natural feeling in the world, no matter how wrong it seemed. You felt yourself slowly melting... You were surrendering. 

"Answer me, Puppet!" He demanded.

You took a minute in finding a breath to aid your vocals.

"N-Not r-really..." You drug out.

He loved the sight of you struggling to speak through obvious distractions, it was like a playful game. He slid his thumb across your tip several times, the blood on his hands making a grotesque lubricant. Despite this it was conjuring more jolts out of you, only to stop right before your mind went too hazy. You let out a light annoyed groan. It was physically torturous to be brought so close to the edge only to fall several steps back.

"You want me to? Then **tell** me." He was truly controlling you and taking it as far as he could.

Pouring sweat, your lower body ached and was practically screaming at you. You couldn't not obey it...not anymore.

"Please..do it!" You yelled in his face with frustration. 

You heard his grumble of satisfaction as his hand pumped hard continuously until you let out another instinctual noise from your vocals, and you felt like you were falling from several hundred feet...in such a good way.

Pooling over his hand, you almost slid down the wall, having no earthly idea how you were able to stay standing. You panted hard and were trying to catch your breath, as if you had just finished running a mile. But that's all you remembered for the next several minutes before being pulled away from the wall and man-handled once more. Only this time no fight was put up.

"Happy sixteenth birthday, Puppet." 

A drop of energy re-awoke your muscles.

 _Christ, you had pathetically forgotten..._ After losing track of the days.

And now you were sixteen years old; the sweet sixteen—classy way of being reminded.

Like a hound on a leash, you were subsequently lead back to the room where it all began. _After your pants were zipped back up._

Peter was quiet. He did not turn on the room's light, but you were able to make out the outline and shape of something in the far corner.

 _A mattress?!_ And not a cheap slim one either.

You glanced back at Peter, bewildered despite your exhaustion, but he'd already close you in.

 _The bastard actually gave you something to sleep on._ The active part of your brain raved. With the rest of your head still spinning, you only walked over to the piece of incomplete furniture, and eventually collapsed.


	13. "Zan"

The next day was given to yourself.

No complaints.

Your body was sore all over, though the sorest spot being your abdomen and lower parts. None of this would feel good if you were to be stuck dealing with the public.

The previous events were something you envisioned looking back on and dwelling. However, this isn't how train of thought went. You felt rightfully awkward when facing Him again, only the strange thing was, he acted like the forbidden physical contact never happened. He simply looked over the check lists the opening staff members had to complete and laid them out for whenever they showed up.

"Oh yea, there's something you'll be doing today. It's new but it's a time killer. It'll keep you from getting bored." He called over before you could even use the restroom.

You tensed, already not liking the sound of this.

"So we hired someone new on board and I want you to be training him. Nothing big." He explained solemnly.

_Nothing big?_

"How the hell am I gonna train someone when I barely know the shit around here myself?"

"Easy. You just tell him the basic rules here. Even _you_ know them. I just wanna see you improvise. See something new. Something...entertaining." He smiled comically. He was definitely doing this because _he's_ the one who was bored and wanted to watch you struggle in coming up with your own way to show a newbie around.

"You're an ass. Besides, I thought you didn't want me talking to people. What happened to that?"

" _Would_ be an issue, if it wasn't for the fact that he'll be wearing one of the suits today, which means he isn't going to be allowed to talk with anyone else. Just you. And I think I can trust you. Otherwise you wouldn't be out here at all." He answered, looking over the last checklist in his hand. Although this much was true, you still couldn't help but to feel like he was taking a huge risk for himself by doing this.

He was. If you planned on saying anything that wasn't supposed to be mentioned.

_Which you wouldn't be._

"Make me proud, dearheart." He added, tossing the remaining clip board onto the nearest party table.

"Eat a dick." You retorted, hating the degrading tease. You headed for the restrooms again when his hands grabbed your shoulders roughly. He had snuck up from behind without even making a sound and pulled you to him, your back slamming against his torso.

"What was that?" He questioned lowly but carried no anger in his voice.

"Nothing." You murmured hastily, a little desperate to escape his grip.

"Sure didn't  **sound** like nothing..." 

A second later you heard voices entering the restaurant.

"Let go!" You demanded in a frustrated whisper.

He finally did as wished and set you loose.

When rejoining the dining area you saw a young man in uniform who hadn't ever been in the restaurant before.

 _This must be the newbie_. You guessed the obvious since the guy was conversing with Peter. You approached, staying mute.

"And here's the Puppet. He'll be showing you around. You won't need to learn the intense stuff just yet. We'll save that for day three. Right now we'll just start you off with something simple. You don't need to say anything when wearing the Fazbear suit. So this will just be your observation day. Sound easy?" Peter explained.

"Easy enough!" The new guy responded with high excitement. You raised a brow behind the mask.

 _This guy seemed extra thrilled. It's just a pizza restaurant. A_ kid's _pizza restaurant._ You thought, finding it strange this guy was so jovial.

Maybe he was just extra positive _._ Wasn't a bad thing. Besides, you could use extra positivity when dealing with the guests.

 _Then again, it could just be the typical first day excitement that died in days when the person got used to the bullshit._ This sounded more accurate.

"'Puppet' eh? Does he have a real name?" The guy asked, looking at you. His features leapt out, hair and eyes vibrant.

 _These were features that were uncommon._ You thought, envying him. His question, however, turned it into worry. He asked something that wouldn't be acceptable in Peter's ears. You tensed, unsure of what to say and just decided to let Peter deal with this one.

"You call him _Puppet_. Simple as that." Peter said with a streak of firm authority.

"Anywho, this is Zaniel. You'll be showing this lucky guy around." He was fast in fixing the attention back onto the newbie.

 _Interesting name too. Was everything uncommon about this guy?_  

Zaniel looked a bit taken aback by Peter's reaction. He snapped back into focus when he was introduced, holding out his hand politely.

"Hi there! I'm Zaniel, but you can call me Zan! Please don't set me up for failure!" He joked.

You smirked behind the puppet face. Already you could tell he was an innocuous goof. You took his hand and shook it with politeness.

"Uh, yea. Welcome...Zan." You spoke, using his shortened name (and feeling better with it).

"Alright, so just follow me and I'm gonna set you up in the Fazbear suit. It shouldn't take too long. Puppet will stay here and wait for you until then." Peter jumped in and informed him of the next instructions.

You gave a single thumbs up and watched the two of them head back to the office area before sighing and letting a groan escape. You walked over to the nearest wall and leaned on it, feeling lethargic. You watched as more employees arrived and got right to work on grabbing a check list and fulfilling everything on it. A few casted an eye at you but turned their focus back on their own job.

There was a young woman with dark hair standing near the dining area, no clipboard in her hand. You would've paid no mind, but she was staring sharply in your direction. You raised another brow, wondering what her issue was. You could sense her testiness a mile away.

 _What?_ You griped in your head. If she had a problem, she could always  **talk** to you instead of standing there... However, you may regret this as she was headed this way.

Her gaze didn't break as the space between the two of you died away. She looked confident, like she had every right to do this. You were quick in seeing why; on her name badge read Assistant Manager.

 _Oh fuck_... You mentally groaned. Now you  _would_ be dealing with an issue.

"Is there a reason you're just standing around?" She asked.

 _Good God, Peter, do you not even let your other managers know to not fuck around with me?_ You thought as you tried coming up with an answer to get her off your case.

"Yeah, I'm waiting on Peter." You answered honestly. 

"He's with someone right now. Is there something _I_ can assist you with?" She asked, determined to not let you stand there without lifting a finger.

"No. Not really. I'm training the person he's putting in the Fazbear suit. Soo..."

You saw a spark in her eyes. She was definitely used to employees obeying her fast without confusion.

"You haven't even been here long enough to train someone. How are you training someone?" She kept grilling. Her strictness crackled like embers.

You put your hands out, shrugging your shoulders.

"Hey, I asked the same question!" You laughed, showing little to nil professionalism. Her eyes widened, bemused by your behavior. Not receiving an ounce of submission was foreign to her.

"And your name is...?" She asked, sending a genuine streak of fear in you.

 _Shit_. You thought, but still clung to a shred of humor.

"Puppet." You answered, capping your spilling laughs.

"Oh, hey!" You saw Peter walking back out with the large golden bear. He couldn't have come at a better time since the assistant manager—

 _Beth! Her name's Beth_. Your mind interrupted.

Beth was close to unleashing a fierce amount of verbal lashing on you until she too was distracted by the sight of her boss coming back this way. There was a negative shine in the man's eyes and he visibly rolled them when seeing you and the woman— _bitch—_ near each other.

 _Don't get pissy at_ me _! You're the one that didn't tell your management to keep away._ You thought as he and the yellow bear approached.

"Yeah, so it's a little weird at first but you get used to it. You'll learn to judge the distance on how far you need to keep away from things so you don't knock anything over pretty fast." He said to the bear, who was Zan.

"Uh...yeah. Sorry again...about the coffee mug."

You figured out what they were talking about and hiccuped a giggle. 

"Don't worry about it. Shit happens." Peter said, and his assistant manager didn't dare call him out on the foul language.

"And you..." He looked at Beth, who put aside her many questions for what he had to say.

"Go back to signing off the check lists. You know I can't start any of the damn mechanics and shit until they get approved of." He ordered her.

She glanced in your direction before finally leaving.

"Hey, what a real pain in the ass, huh?" You commented and jerked a thumb at her, snickering. A real employee wouldn't be getting away with this joke, but you weren't a real employee, and knew you could take advantage of these special privileges—bad commentary on management (in front of a newbie, also) included.

"Enough." Peter stomped on your play.

"Just kidding..." You responded a little quiet and turned your head away from him, looking back at the yellow bear.

"So, how's it feeling in there?" You killed the awkward situation by turning attention back to Zan and his first few minutes in the Fazbear suit.

"Magical!" He replied.

"Awesome. Well I'll be the Puppet, and you'll be my lovely escort for the day." You told him, getting a laugh from the suit.

"Like I said, you won't be worrying about the opening check lists today. Or for the rest of the week. Just focus on learning how to walk and move properly in the suit. Puppet will do well in making sure that no catastrophes happen. And...expect to have your picture taken by a lot of guests today. Just saying." Peter informed him with little artificial enthusiasm.

"Yup, just you and me! Hey, don't we make an adorable couple?" Your concealed humor spilled out again when you hugged the giant waist of Fazbear. Zan laughed again behind the bear's face, not seeing the piercing dark glare the boss shot.

"Kidding." You said hastily.

 _I get it. No one touches your precious possessions. Or even jokes about it._ You said to the grumpy man inwardly. Events from the other night dripped in your mental vision.

"You both stay only in the dining area. You can take breaks when needed but no longer than five minutes each. And you get one thirty minute break today. Just alert me so I can get you out of there." Peter explained the last instructions to Zan. Without waiting for a verbal comply, he turned and headed back to his office.

"Uhh...okay, whatever you say, boss..." Zan responded, obviously too late for Peter to hear. He shared the same that-was-weird feeling with you, though you were too used to Peter's shadowy actions to feel uber bothered by it. It became more of an inconvenience to you; he never waited for any last questions or concerns before disappearing back into his lair where no one else could enter.

_That's probably why he's quick on returning there._

"So you wanna show me around before we open?" Zan asked, starting a new conversation.

"Sure. I mean...there's not much to show. Like big dog said, we'll be staying in the dining area, so there's that boundary. You'll want to steer clear from the middle as to avoid being cornered by the kids who can't keep their hands to themselves, otherwise you can't escape without help." You made impressive calculations when thinking about how stressful things may be for the two of you if any dumb mistakes were made.

"Good point!" He said.

"I guess we can just walk around near the tables every now and then so the kids can see you and get pictures worth. Sorry, there's nothing majorly fun for you to do here just yet..." You sympathized with him. It couldn't be swell having to stay cramped in that sweat box of a suit...

"Nahh It's all good. It sure beats running around and catering to the needy guests all day." Zan found a quick upside.

"Yeah...guess you're right." You changed your mind.

"Not to get in your business or anything, but...what was Beth saying to you? She looked kind of pissed. S'cuse my language." Zan asked.

"Oh, her? Uh..." You took a second.

"She was just wondering why I was standing by myself and not doing anything. Told her I was waiting on you and Peter. How do you know her already?" You ended the brief explanation with a question as a poor attempt to shift the subject.

"She hired me." He answered.

_Duh, the management team usually hires the employees._

"Who hired YOU?" He asked, turning the question around.

"Eh...Peter did." You answered, looking around the restaurant in case he was in hearing distance. There was a fear in the back of your mind that he would somehow know about when he was being talked about. _Like he had telepathy..._

"Oh, cool. So how old are you?" Zan asked curiously. The innocent question sent icy flurries through your blood stream.

That question; you've heard that question from the bear before...

"Si-Eighteen." You caught yourself. 

"Hooray! Drinking age! Oh wait...they changed that, didn't they? Hey, as long as you don't get caught!" He joked. 

"Yea, no shit." You agreed.

"Welp, it starts now... brace yourself." You suddenly warned him when seeing the first family enter through the pizzeria's doors.


	14. Bear

*  
The group of mothers stayed at the party tables and discussed music and other things you didn't understand nor had any interest in listening to while you had a fast soda break. You finished everything in the cup with your name on it and attempted to quickly set it back on the table and run off. The empty cup toppled to the floor. 

You heard your name coming from the infamous stern voice of your mother. You skidded to a halt and turned around. She simply pointed to the small party cup on its side. Your eagerness to rejoin the birthday group was nearly overwhelming.

Impatient to get this "task" done fast, you ran back over to the fallen cup and set it back on the table. You only got the chance to just physically turn around when your name was called again. You turned back once more, now showing a spark of grumpiness, though this wouldn't do any good. The other women sitting around were also staring at you and smiling, thinking how cute it was to see you goof up and grow frustrated.

"Put that in the trash. It has germs on it now." You were instructed. You snorted a sigh and re-grabbed the paper cup and ran to the trash, throwing it in to join the pile of other party garbage with just a little more than the appropriate force needed.

 _Now_ you were allowed to return to the other kids, and did so at almost full speed, hoping nothing fun had been missed during your short absence. You had actually come back just in time, for the most exciting part of the birthday party was about to unfold. The birthday girl had her own cake brought by her parents, but the restaurant always gave out their signature cupcakes to the kids and it was catered out in a fun way.

Freddy had been removed from the stage and triggered to start walking around. He had a plate in his hand, holding the large cupcake decorated in pink icing—the stereotypical color to perfectly fit the birthday girl. The kids gathered in a small group and cheered on the bear with chatters of excitement. You always thought it was amazing to see the characters walk, feeding your beliefs on the possibility of them actually being alive.

"Alright everyone! Freddy is going to sing you his special birthday song!" A woman in uniform announced, fueling the yay's accompanied by hopping. You were lucky enough to be up at the front by the birthday girl, who was the most enthusiastic for obvious reasons.

Freddy stood close, one hand holding the plate with the cupcake and the other holding the microphone near his jaws. The tune of Toreador began playing; his version of the birthday song. He barely started when a girl behind you just couldn't contain herself any longer.

" **[First Name]** , move! I can't see!!" She squeaked, her hard shove much stronger than her voice.

Not expecting the bad push, you flew forward, coming straight into hard contact with one of Freddy's large legs. His soft material absorbed most the shock for you, but it didn't help with the sheer force your little body caused.

The animatronic tilted back sharply, and the woman escorting him immediately grabbed the bear and rebalanced him with a push back to his feet before he fell over completely. In the panic she hadn't thought about tending to the plate and cupcake since they weren't as important as a large robotic (and expensive) bear collapsing.

You got back to your own feet, still recovering when the sound of breaking porcelain rang in your ears. You heard the impact before your body caught up to  _feeling_ it. The plate had fallen on your head and broke.

The cupcake was next to splatter onto your face and shoulders, now adding frosting to your confusion. The cherry was the shrill laughter of the other kids, who obviously didn't understand the seriousness of the situation and only saw the clownish act of a kid getting a plate and cupcake dropped on their head.

Their twisted mouths and squeaky voices were distorted as your cranium was being overloaded with dizziness and blurred vision. The instinct to cry from the sheer pain and shock was temporarily unavailable with your brain scrambling to control your motor skills. The high-pitched laughter slowly ceased after the parents quickly arrived to the scene and angrily hushed their kids, including the birthday girl.

Your name left your mother's mouth again but in a much different pitch this time. You were embraced and tears finally left your eyes, but you didn't cry as hard as expected. The employee was now in an even greater panic, but one of her bosses was swift to step in. He was gentlemen who looked around the same age as your father. Little did you know he was actually Fred Fazbear, owner of the entire entertainment. He just so happened to be visiting the restaurant on this day.

He approached your frantic mother and took the liberty of helping her clean your frosted face.

The two adults finally got to wiping most of the cupcake splatter off to where your **[Eye Color]** eyes were very much visible, shaken up, and staring straight into his. When peering at him he gave off a strange influence that put an end to the rest of your shaking and crying. His smiling face turned somber.

His bizarre switch in expressions was a scare, but it didn't physically show.

 _You didn't like his gaze._  Such a lack of emotion was weird. His eyes looked to be trembling in their sockets. He was studying your face and had no shame in freaking you out in the process.

"Ma'am, I can assure you that I'll cover all of the little one's medical bills if you care to check him out at a pediatrician. Would you like me to call an ambulance for you? Just in case?" He asked your mother in a very warm voice.

"No. I think...I think he's okay. There's no blood or cuts or anything. Just a little bump. I think he's more scared than anything. But thank you though..." She politely declined. A team of paramedics would've more than likely drove you into a greater panic, anyway.

"Let me at least give you this..." Fred spoke again and handed her something you couldn't see.

You blocked out the rest of their conversation and just remained quiet, not paying the other kids any mind. By now they were at least all sympathetic towards you when seeing how frightened you really were.

What was going on between Fred and your mother was something that would explain why you were spending so much time at Fazbear's and the other kid restaurants over the next number of years in your life.

Fred had gifted a voucher good for basically a lifetime. A voucher that would allow your family into any Fazbear-owned restaurant whenever desired and given a free party. She would never actually _tell_ you about this, but would instead surprise you and your sister with visits frequently.

"This is awfully generous for a bump on the head, sir..." She wasn't complaining, but was a little more than surprised by the apology gift.

"Well I'm just wanting you to know I'm deeply sorry about this incident and plan on never letting it happen again to anyone else. Plus, I don't want your boy here to be terrified of this place now because of a little accident." 

*


	15. The "test"

Late evening had just rolled around and the restaurant was standing on its last hour for the day. There were two families left and both of them had their fill of the puppet, allowing you to roam freely without anymore needed interactions. Both tables were getting around to the remaining gifts for the birthday brats, and all you could really do was occupy a small quiet place nearby and wait (somewhat) patiently until they left.

The peace was slightly disturbed when someone approached, but meant no harm.

"Poke." The young man said whilst he touched the side of your mask.

"Poke poke." He repeated.

"Whaaat?" 

"I've never seen you with that thing off." Zan replied.

"Yeah? So what?" You said.

A small heat slithered from your midsection up to your face, almost causing a light sweat. Zan was the first person to call you out on never removing the puppet mask.

"I'm just kinda thinking it's a little strange is all. Are we not allowed to see your face or something?" He harmlessly joked.

 _That's_ exactly _why, actually._ you thought.

"I just don't like to show it."

"Yeah, but _why_?" He went on.

"Because...I hate it. I hate my own face." You blurted. The answer was more undeveloped than originally planned. It had run across your mind but wasn't meant to be picked as a solution. However, it was tossed out the moment it rested on the tip of your tongue.

"You ain't kidding?" He asked, looking surprisingly fascinated.

"No."

"Why do you hate it?" 

"Because I just do." You stuck with plain answers and decided to move away from the quiet spot. With the topic being on something so secretive, you were reasonably nervous. Unfortunately, however, the persistent man would follow.

"It's just really hard to talk to you and not know what you actually look like. Every time I think about you I picture someone with a blank empty face." He spoke with a humorous smile.

"Oh, you think about me? That's sweet." You joked.

"Har har." Was his response.

"Seriously, can I not get just a peek?"

"Jesus, you sound like a desperate boyfriend wanting a glimpse under the bra." You threw out and gave yourself a laugh.

"Har HAR!"

The two of you were then silent for under a minute. Suddenly you felt cool air hit your hidden face as Zan had apparently gone for a blind spot on the side of the mask.

"Going in!" He teased.

" _QUIT!_ " You resorted to an angry snap.

Zan instantly let go and nearly jumped back, not expecting such a reaction. His eyes widened in surprise.

 _But how much did he see??_ Your first instinct asked.

There was a short-lived fear on if his shocked expressions had to do with recognizing you as a missing person. It died away as soon as you heard the "Jeez..sorry!"

"Just...don't do that again. I'm serious when I say that I have a major problem with showing my face."

You picked up lost patience and threaded a calmer sentence. It wasn't an enjoyment to bitch at Zan, but you'd rather him experience an unexpected scare from **you** than Peter.

"Okay, okay. Sorry, man. I shouldn't have done that. My fault." He apologized and now exhibited respect for your personal space.

* * *

 

When the evening was finally up Zan brushed by one last time before leaving.

"Hey, Pete wants to see you in his office. You do anything wrong?"

"Uhh, no. I guess he just wants to tell me something." You answered with honest thought.

_Why would Peter want you in his office? He hated people going in there!_

You hesitated but eventually answered to your summoning. Peter's door was halfway open, and upon entering you saw him relaxed in his chair with his head resting in his hands folded behind him, staring at the video feed on his desk.

"Uhh..." You drew out.

"Yeah, just wanted to ask you something real fast. It's about a small incident that happened earlier..." He started while leaning further back and tilting the chair.

_Incident?_

You couldn't recall anything—that might've been worthy to his knowledge—happening during todays' work hours.

"What inc—"

"I thought I made it perfectly clear on not letting anyone tamper with your mask." He interrupted and pushed straight to the point.

 _Oh..._ So he had actually witnessed what Zan did...

"Yeah. He tried, but I stopped him and told him not to. He didn't see anything, so what's the big deal?" You defended yourself. _And Zan._

"How do you know that?" He asked. His tone darkened but he didn't physically face you yet.

"He didn't say anything. And he felt bad for pissing me off. Other than that he acted normal and still has been." You explained. In all honesty this entire conversation was a time waste, and you were starting to act like it.

"That doesn't prove anything." He responded, turning his chair around and staring with a pair of shiny, coal-dark eyes. You met them for not even a few seconds before turning away from him. It wasn't that you **weren't**  scared of them (because you still very much were), it was more of saving yourself from being overpowered and reduced to a pile of overwhelmed nerves by just a stare down.

"I don't care."

Unfortunately you didn't comprehend right away that he'd still have the same exact responses and actions, whether he successfully interrogated you or not. You had said a trio of words that would only have an adverse outcome. Immediately after, he rose to his feet.

_Too late to take it all back._

"Oh, you don't, do you?" His voice was closer than it should've been. A minor percentage of you had the idea of running since the hallway was literally only two steps away.

 _Don't do it._ Your mind murmured its crucial warning.

_Don't run._

Even though you _expected_ some sort of violence to follow up after his speech, it was still a bit of a surprise when feeling him grab your arm and flip you back around to where his eyes were once again in plain sight, right before he slammed you against the wall, rattling a few frames.

"Maybe I don't either." He was saying as his strong grip was now around your throat.

Now you were petrified. Now you would've taken _everything_ back no matter how late it was. You even tried, but a painful cough was the only thing coming out as Peter's hand squeezed your windpipe without any signs of letting go.

"Maybe I don't care one bit." He said again as he leaned close to your terror-filled face.

 _ **LET GO**! _ You were so desperately trying to say, but got nowhere except for more gags. Both of your frantic hands could not pry off his one and the option to kick out seemed to be disabled somehow.

Your nails scratched the surface of his hand, but it clearly wasn't bothering him in the slightest. By now, vision was fogging up and your surroundings were magically disappearing as everything fuzzed over. Right before you were drained of all fight, he lightened his grip, and you were able to take in a massive breath. And then hack.

He allowed you to fall on your knees and choke on the built up saliva. Your neck felt hot and your head was spinning as everything around you slowly came back into existence. With your face entirely red, you choked and coughed until your lungs and throat felt worn-out. 

"Now tell me;  **do** you care? Do you care how important all of this is? How important it is to me..." Peter asked right above. His tone was casual this time but held no pity towards the one suffering below.

_You better answer fast._

"Yes...yes I do..." You responded to him with a shot voice. A trail of saliva hung from your mouth as you kept staring at the tiled floor inches below, eyes decorated with broken vessels.

"Good." He replied.

"Now get out of my office."


	16. The tail of Foxy

*

"Hey! You can't do that! You need to stop this behavior and settle down right NOW, young man!" A female employee said to the chaos-causing child, who had been getting on her last nerve for the past hour.

You looked up at the girl throwing a wrench in your hyper active fun. Her eyes were sharp and glaring, but your headstrong clever mind saw right through her act, easily reading her.

Her vexed eyes slightly widened at the same slow speed she saw you crack an extremely mischievous smile. The both of you were standing right by the edge of Pirate Cove, which was open with Foxy singing his Arrg's and chatting his broken sailor talk. Each time he sharply moved his body, the tail hanging weakly from his backside would swing in your direction.

You'd be getting one last word out of this before the fun was ended. You'd make sure of it; Consequences be damned. After a quick decision you leapt up and grabbed the dangling fox tail, yanking it hard as you landed. It came off with ease, and you now had the Foxy prop tail.

This time the girl's lips curled up into a snarl. Witnessing your outright defiance was almost too much for her. A small portion of her fire was doused, however, when you dropped the tail and ran off. She had a feeling you would instead run around with it. So technically there was an easy fix, but the fact alone that you did this was still powerful enough to piss her off.

She picked up the severed tail off the floor and headed back towards her boss's office. He was sitting in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk. She cocked her head to the side, swallowing the fury that was wanting to flood out of her system.

"How's THIS, Peter?" She called, expecting to spook him at least.

He was calm and took his time in turning around to face her. She saw a book in his hands. When he finished the line he was on and decided she was worth paying attention to, he casually looked up from the page.

"You say something?" He asked, expression unreadable.

She could neither tell if he was being impertinently sarcastic or if he was honest in not hearing her. She responded by holding up the tail that was without a Foxy.

"That 'kid' you said wouldn't be much of a problem just did **this** ; he pulled off Foxy's tail. How's THAT for being not much of a problem? You plan on gluing this back?"

His eyes went from looking at the fox's tail to her. He didn't have an ounce of surprise in him. In fact, one of his brows raised a few centimeters. He almost appeared more concerned about her _reaction_ than the news of Foxy no longer having his tail. After letting everything soak in for a minute he hiccuped a laugh.

"Wouja look at that. Y'know, I was very close to having everyone place bets on whenever that thing would come off. Sure glad I didn't though, 'cuz my guess would've been a little longer than that. I tell ya..." He was amused, releasing a few chuckles even. She, however, was stunned by his response. She knew Peter was on the young side for being a restaurant director, but she didn't think he'd be this frivolous about problems. For several seconds nothing was exchanged until he spoke again.

"Hey, look at the bright side, maybe we can get one of the kids to put it back on by making a game called 'Pin the tail on the fox'!" He chortled. The girl had enough for the day and quite frankly, her shift was up.

"Alright, have fun with that. I'm clocking out." She told him and tossed the soft tail onto his desk, the white-tipped end hanging over the edge lifelessly.

Peter shrugged and looked back at his book. For ten minutes he stayed, reading. He eyes lingered back onto the dingy fox tail hanging off the desk. He moved his chair and peered at the video footage available on the computer screen.

* * *

 

" **[First Name]**! Where have you been?" Your mother chastised you for not staying with the rest of the small birthday party she was helping chaperone. She didn't wait for an answer, nor did you plan on giving her one. All that mattered was you being present with everyone else.

One of the other mothers gathered her own children so there could be a proper headcount. This kept you from finding something else mischievous to do, but it wasn't too great of a loss. You had plenty of fun today, even if most of it was destructive. But one distinct aspect you loved about today was being defiant against a staff member to where you actually ripped off Foxy's tail.

_You had ripped off the fox's tail!_

You had done what so many other kids dreamed of doing. Granted no one else really saw this performance, otherwise news of it would've spread fast. Everyone seemed to be aware, but they didn't know how it happened or who the culprit was.

You were leashed to the party table for the next (boring) hour until the birthday kid was ready to leave, triggering everyone else to start packing. One of the mothers was trashing several of the birthday cups when an employee approached her, holding a tied gift box. It was given to her and she was told who it was for.

"Oh no, it can't be him _._ One of the  _other_ kids is the birthday boy." The cheery woman laughed, thinking the staff member made a mistake on names but appreciated the thought on handing out an extra free present to the birthday child.

"I assure you, ma'am, it's for **[First Name]**. The boy belonging to that family over there." She was told again.

She was bemused but did as instructed. She approached your parents and explained everything to them. You didn't hear what was going on but the vibrant gift box had your attention. You first thought someone had missed out on giving their gift, but you were confused when seeing your mom take the box, sharing your quizzical look.

She kept it from you for a few good reasons. Her initial thoughts were that the restaurant made some kind of mistake and mistook you for the other kid. Another thing was that she felt a bit uncomfortable with it. A gift from a stranger always sounded questionable. The argument in this was that it was from a children's restaurant, known for giving their own presents and gifts.

She decided to just investigate by opening the gift box herself. What she pulled out was something unimaginable to her. Stuffed inside was a fluffy red fabric. It unraveled and revealed to have a white tip on the end. Something else not-so odd this time came from inside the box as well. A small card.

**To [First Name], from Management**

After inspecting the "gift" a bit longer she finally recognized it as Foxy's tail.

_What in the hell was it doing being passed off as a gift?_

After thinking on it she could see how it would've been a cute, thoughtful surprise for a kid. However, there wasn't any use of this thing for you, and it was filthy to begin with. The germs of a thousand kids bounced all over the dirty thing, making your mother trash it. A simple wash could've fixed this, but there was something about the tail that made her feel too uncomfortable to pass it along.

It may not have been a good thing to show you anyway, considering she didn't know you were the one to rip it off, and seeing it again may have made you fold.

The tail itself was never missed, and Peter didn't bother to have it replaced, thus Foxy was without a tail thereon after.

*


	17. Prize Corner

"Why are we closed for the day again?" You asked Him when he hung around a bit too long for liking after coming in The Room.

"Putting up something new that the kids will enjoy. Might as well have it done by a few staff members on a day off instead of just **me** doing it after hours." He said while shining the long shaft of a screwdriver. The gleam of it whenever the rag moved out the way made your guts squirm. He seemed to enjoy having it in his possession a bit too much. His eyes had grazed you and were able to sense your growing anxiety.

"Wassamatter?" He called out. He wore a pearly grin when catching your attention.

Your eyes shot from the newly-shined screwdriver shaft to him. There was no denying the hard stare burning into the tool seconds prior.

"Nothing."

"You sure? You look a little...what's the word... _scared_." He taunted as his grip tightened and he began shortening the space between the two of you. His fingers curled and bounced off the thick, metallic shaft like he was strumming a small guitar.

_Stop fucking playing around._

You tried to conjure out the words, but they remained premature. You had actually taken a step back from him when his proximity was too close for comfort—worst move to make.

 _Stop showing him your Goddamn fear! He gets more of a rise if you show you're afraid!_  Your conscience roared down for feeding his ego. You managed to keep a cold scowl on your face when locking stares with him, but it was far too late to fool him into thinking you weren't bothered by what he had in his hands.

"What, you think I'm gonna use this on you? You think I'm gonna hurt you?" The man questioned before snickering. He waved the shiny tool around, as if slicing at something from above.

You stood your ground this time. The initial fear wasn't lost but you were better at hiding it, though there was a section within that knew it wouldn't do much good in the end. Although there was a speck of denial, you were aware he had some sort of sixth sense and could smell the faintest drop of fear in a person like a professional bloodhound. But you could at least keep your dignity and sport a face that showed you weren't messing around.

"Cut that out." You finally managed.

"Ohhh, Puppet...you really think I'd hurt you?" He asked again, teeth still flashing. He put the long screwdriver behind his back to keep it unseen.

A jogging memory of him choking you the other day ran through. He'd been so damn close to forcing you into unconsciousness... Hell  **yes** you believed he would hurt you! And now he was asking the question while staring at your reddened eyes—in courtesy of busted vessels— _he_ damaged from the violence.

You weren't really stamped with any marks (such as bruises) from his gripping fingers during those terrifying moments, but you for sure felt tenderness in your neck area where he had squeezed. Thinking back made you want to rub near your trachea, but you didn't want to hint your mind being on that little session.

You were too distracted to notice Him reaching for your shoulder, making you flinch when feeling his empty hand near your collar bone. He just might've felt your heart rate pick up as you thought he was about to have another few minutes of fun taking your air away.

"You know what _I_ wanna do?" He asked. He had leaned in close to where you could see his pupils grow in size.

You _almost_ began to form a sweat on your forehead.

"Go home?" You tossed out a ditzy guess to cause a skewed ripple in the stream of suspense. Slowly his teeth disappeared back behind the flesh curtain of his mouth. His smile remained, but you could tell your smart insolence still had its uses.

"No." He answered, showing he may have been holding back on feeling annoyed.

"Then what?"

"Show you the new Prize Corner and Fazbear characters." He revealed.

"The WHAT?" 

"I told you a while back the restaurant would be getting a new look. Wellll the new characters have already arrived. In pieces, of course, but they have a long time before they'll be put together. The Prize Corner is set up, though. It's still a 'demo' you could say, but it'll give the guests a taste of what's to come."

He had long forgotten about teasing you any more with the tool and turned away, facing the door.

"C'mon, it'll be _fun_." He insisted in exaggeration, pulling you by your shirt's material.

There would be no choice in the matter.

There was no need to ask where the new additions were set; the first bit practically jumped out at you upon exiting the room. Near the arcade machines was a large stand holding an abundance of plush versions of the characters and small plastic toys.

"Hope you like the sight of the new Prize Corner, cause you'll be spending most of your time there." Peter said while you inspected.

"Uhh...why?" You asked, not warming up the sudden idea of having some new assigned spot.

"Because. It's easier for you this way and it's easier for ME this way." Was his answer.

"Plus this is basically the Marionette puppet's spot. In the new location it'll be more improved with the puppet on sight." He added.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me...come on back here.."

He turned away from the stand's counter and walked through the dining area. You reluctantly followed and eventually met up with him on the stage. The curtains were opened and exposing the band. Before you could ask anything else he pulled the back curtain to the side, revealing a door.

"There's a room back there??" 

"Yeah. Tool room." He answered after opening it up. It was more spacious than one would think. And just as he had said, there was a work bench near the wall with vast amounts of tools laid out. The back of the room held piles of metal pieces and vibrant-colored plates that looked awfully familiar.

"And here are the future money-makers! They're in pathetic crumbles at the moment, but they'll be fixed up in the near future and look more kid-friendly." He went on about the soon-to-be new Fazbear models and you drained him out with pure disinterest. As he became engrossed with the metallic parts, a shiny, thin piece of metal among the scattered tools stole your focus. Upon examining a little closer without making it quite obvious, it looked less like a working tool and more like...a lock-pick.

_Why would Peter ever need **this**?_

You couldn't give a straight answer as to why when looking back later, but you had immediately snaked your arm over the bench and snatched the pick without any second thoughts.

"Their skeletons are a little more fragile compared to the other animatronic's metal beasts inside of them, but they're a lot more flexible. Especially their teeth..." He finished his half-tuned out talk after turning back around and slithering another grin across his mouth. Small this time.

His eyes bounced from the bench and then back onto you in less than a second, making your insides heat up in fear over the possibility that he might've known what you had just done. Further silence proved it to be a random glance and nothing else. He had no idea of the petty theft. Adamant on keeping him from sensing new discomfort again, you turned back and headed out the door.

"Yep. It's all fascinating alright..." You were saying with pseudo-excitement.

"So, do I get floor time or are you putting me back for the night?" You asked after jumping off the stage. The landing sent a lightning-fast jolt of pain through your ankles, almost making you collapse to your knees. You almost winced.

_Your body felt weaker than usual._

This was strange.

You bit the bottom of your lip and slowly removed the twisted look of pain from your face, assuming it was all because of not getting a chance to walk around and stretch your muscles out today.

"Well, I'm already sick of looking at you, so you know what that entails." Peter answered from the stage behind. The door firmly shut and the curtain was heard being pulled back over it, hiding the room's secrets for another day.

"Right." You replied back, heading over to the opened Room to return for the evening. Never needing his assistance in shutting yourself in, you grabbed the door's lever and prepared to pull it shut until his voice stopped you.

"Hey, think fast!"

"What—" You turned back to him and were met with some long plush thing hitting you in the face.

"Ow! What the hell!?" Your voice bounced off the door he finished shutting and locking. When uncovering yourself, you had looked down and saw a black heap laying next to your feet.

 _It's details..._ It was the Marionette puppet; exactly how you saw it during your old drug trip a while back.

Its limbs were long and sprawled out like a dead spider's. It gave you a shiver before noticing how close your "uniform" truly resembled its features. The black color, white buttons, white rings...and let's not forget the loathsome mask.

With a blooming curiosity you reached down and picked the lame thing up. Its head hung and seemed rather heavy for its material. Unsurprisingly, its body was soft and squishy. So why did Peter chuck this at you? Was he only just meaning to introduce this new character in a vexatious way because it's what you were resembling?

_That and he was claiming the final word of the night, like always._

As you used your other hand to prod the thing's buttons, a ringing metal sound was heard near the ground, sending a small jump through your nerves. Pulling your vision back downwards, you saw the object that had been stolen from Peter's tool room. The lock-pick... It had slipped out from inside of your long sleeve.

A duo of panic and excitement flopped over each other when staring at the tool that could be considered precious to so many.

What if Peter found out it was missing? What if he found out it was you that took it?

_He couldn't know if he never found it. Even if he was aware of it being missing._

But how was one to hide something like this? _And why were you wanting to keep it?_

Your running mind halted at this terribly excellent question.

Why  **were** you wanting to keep it so badly?

One could easily guess you may have thought about using it for an escape, to key open the front door whenever the chance came. However, this wasn't an idea that hit. You  _didn't_ want to escape, believe it or not. So why keep it?

 _Because._ A voice said.

 _Just because._ Its second repetition was enough to make you start looking for a proper place to hide the small object.

The mattress?

 _No..._ It was too obvious. With how Peter was, he'd frisk this spot some time or later and come across it. You looked at the puppet. The black sockets on its eyes and mouth were of the same soft material that made up its body. You could push it in quite far and create a decent-sized gap in between the fabric and plastic.

You pressed on the puppet's mouth and wedged the pick in the far exposed corner. It had fit perfectly. Despite its creepy looks, it had just proven itself to be of a damned good use...

You smirked, feeling profoundly clever.


	18. CRUNCH (1)

You weren't enjoying the company of the Marionette doll, at first. It was only good for staring with its creepy, eyeless sockets. However, all displeasure eventually subsided when remembering how useful of a hiding spot it was. If it weren't for this you may have hurled it back at Him eventually. But it remained in your possession.

Why the idea of using this new lock-pick of yours in escaping never charmed you weren't too sure. Or maybe you  _were_ sure. A part of you—no the  **majority** , actually, didn't want to leave Peter.

A distorted trust had grown towards Him, and you were finally admitting it but did not feel exactly ashamed. Maybe there were still rare moments where you'd reflect and question what the hell you were doing.

 _You gave in to the enemy._ A small drop of sanity would splash into your eardrums from time to time.

This would be the first day of preparing for the morning without having smeared fantasies of possible escape.

 _Escape_. Those thoughts were truly extinct. Granted you still hated what you did but you did it all for the sake of keeping Peter happy. And for the sake of pleasing this new alter ego;

_Puppet._

You had forgotten about this new Prize Corner until seeing it near the arcade area, looking vibrant and obnoxious.

"Ugh..." You quietly groaned to yourself when remembering that Peter planned on using this spot as your new leash.

"It's good to see your enthusiasm." He had an uncanny talent for just appearing.

"Oh, it's just splendid! I can't wait to look like a bitch at her desk job." You said.

"Well whatever you make of it just remember you aren't allowed to leave unless you ask permission. Also, there are no birthday brats today so you'll be at the corner all day like the lucky bastard you are." He ran through the rules, adding in another bit of information that killed the remaining positivity left within you.

_And the day hadn't even begun yet._

"Can you not just put the collar back on me? Believe or not I felt more freedom with  _that_ thing." You dug into sardonic humor.

"We're long past the point of needed that anymore. I do these things for a reason, Puppet. Get over it." He gave off clear signs of low tolerance for today. 

"So what am I to do at this super special corner of prizes?" 

"There's a guide behind the counter that tells you what to do. A trained ape could follow it." He informed.

"Mask. Now." He suddenly commanded. The opening crew was showing up and coming through the entrances. You slipped on the Puppet face and hopped over the Prize Corner counter. Before Peter got ten steps away you called out to him, needing one last thing.

"Do I get any bathroom breaks?" You asked.

He narrowed his eyes and turned back, progressing to his office.

 _Whaaat? It was a legitimate question!....Stick in the mud._ You thought and smirked behind the mask.

Four employees entered the restaurant; only one to have your interest was Zan. The enthusiastic young man waved to you and pranced over to your spot like a silly kid.

"Damn, you're here early. When did you get up here?" He asked.

"Uhh...about twenty minutes ago." You made up a time.

"And I thought _I_ was a morning person."

"Believe me, I'm far from a morning person." You said with a small laugh so he wouldn't sense your grump.

"You truly  **are** an interesting person. Don't think I've met anyone like you before in my twenty-four years of life. You hate your own face but still do a fine job at entertaining guests and kids and have a funny sense of humor." He randomly stated.

"Thanks?" 

"That wasn't a bad thing, man. Didn't mean to make it sound like it was. You're interesting in a very good way is what I meant." He corrected himself.

"Yeah, I hear ya." You assured.

"So, what are you doing behind _here_? What's this new Prize Corner all about?" He asked, looking around at the small plastic toys and plush dolls.

"I was actually kind of asking Peter the same thing. It's supposedly a test run for what the new pizzeria will be getting here in about a year or so. Or whatever. He just wants me in charge of managing it I guess. Hell knows why." You explained.

"Because it's better for the kids to be given a prize by the Puppet himself rather than a pizza-smelling, cranky employee wearing a greasy polo." He joked. It earned him a few genuine laughs from you.

"Before everything starts opening up I wanted to ask a personal question...If that's okay."

The mood now went from comical to serious in seconds. You stiffined with uneasiness.

"Um...sure." You complied. You could only imagine what the question would entail and prepared to weave faux answers to cover up anything that might remotely reveal your real identity.

_He already knows I won't give out my name. What more could he ask?_

"Feel free to just ignore this but...I've always wanted to know...why DO you loathe your face so much? I remember that being the only reason you wear the mask constantly. It can't be comfortable after so many hours."

He had asked a question you knew was coming at some point. Now it was time to figure out how to explain yourself without raising suspicion.

 _He_ did _say to ignore it if need be_.. Your mind waved, but you felt a strong respect for Zan and didn't want to tell him to kindly screw off.

You closed your eyes and rolled them some, thinking of what could be said that would sound like a true possibility.

"You get in a bad accident or something? Serious scars going on under there?" He threw out a guess, mostly meant as a joke.

"No. Nothing like that. It's...Because.." You started, digging up more words.

"Because I have this...condition...where I just hate showing my face to the public."

You originally meant for this to be a sarcastic response (and as a way to tell him you'd rather not answer).

"Oh, body dysmorphic?"

"Huh?"

"That's what they call it; Body dysmorphic. Condition where a person obsesses with some flaw on themselves. Usually in the facial area, too." He replied with a broad definition.

_There's actually such a thing??_

"Yeah. There we go." You went along with his scientific guess that actually sounded real.

"I see." He said, letting the new "knowledge" sink in for a moment.

"Kinda makes me wonder how you got the job here. How were you even interviewed? What if you had to put on a polo one day instead of your costume?" 

"I...really needed the job and found the guts to apply, I guess. I'm not gonna..um..lie, but I almost couldn't sit through the whole interview. Peter said they had an opening for a new mascot and that I could try out for it since I would be getting to wear this mask. I started, and wouldn't you know, did a good job, so he kept me. As long as they need the Puppet I'll have the job." You wove up a decent story.

"And he made you dye your hair and everything for this?" He asked.

"Yep." You responded with technical truth.

"That's incredible...so you're okay with everyone as long as you're 'covered'?"

"Yes. Yes I am. And I guess it's...therapeutic. It helps me face the public more and become more comfortable with myself. Maybe I'll be able to work without all of this soon." You dropped in a few more convincing details that would've earned anyone's sympathy.

"Well...Cool then! I hope you can overcome that. Doesn't sound fun...I've never seen your face before but I'll just say I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure there's nothing wrong with it!" He said.

"Ha, aren't _you_ funny." You replied, getting another small laugh.

"You think I could ask _Peter_ what you look like since he's seen you before?" He asked, half joking half serious.

A pinprick of fear poked your chest.

 _That wouldn't be a good idea, Zan_. You wanted to reply.

"Just focus on the kids, man." You pushed away the question and backed up a step as to show you were done chatting for now.

"Gotcha. Don't get too lonely up here." He took the hint and finally left you alone.

 _Alone._ The word echoed and you struggled to come up with the enthusiasm for today so you wouldn't go mad. You distracted yourself when remembering there was a prize guide that needed to be learned before people started showing up.

You scanned the back of the counter and easily found the sheet of laminated paper taped up.

In thick bold letters read:

**30 Tickets= A choice of any ring**

**50 Tickets= A choice of any knick knack**

**75 Tickets= A choice of any key chain**

**100 Tickets= A choice of any Fazbear plush**

"Jesus, he wasn't kidding when he said a trained ape could follow this." You mumbled when seeing how stupidly simple it was. As if it wasn't easy enough, the prizes were grouped on the shelves behind you and had a number in front representing the amount of tickets required to purchase them.

There was the sound of someone whistling in the manner of calling a canine, and you jumped, turning around to see Peter at the counter. Your initial guess was that he had seen you and Zan chatting just moments ago and wasn't okay with it.

"Don't do that. I'm not a fucking dog." You grumbled at him.

"Says the one who wanted the collar back on them earlier." He shot back, smirking.

 _Fuck._ He had gotten you there.

"Now before you try coming up with something smart to say back, I'm just here to bring you this..." He held up another Fazbear plush; yellow Freddy.

 _The_ only _one._ You noticed.

"That thing looks like it'd be worth like...a thousand." You said, taking the plushbear from his hand. The material was pleasantly soft and looked well-made.

"It's not for purchasing. It's just for show. Put him on the top shelf and don't let any kids try and take him. If I have to I'll make a custom sign for it." He explained.

"Why?" 

"Just to help advertise the prizes and get kids to play more of the games. I'm trying to get a yellow Bonnie one made to go with it. Still waiting on the boss's response though. Anyway...behave yourself up here. Little Fazbear sees all." He chuckled morbidly and left.

* * *

 

"Good Lord that looks boring." A male employee walked by your counter after thirty minutes had passed. There were yet to be any kids wanting anything from you.

 _Damn straight it is!_ You responded in thought. You've been leaning against the shelf out of pure boredom, wishing you could steal a chair from one of the party tables.

 _Maybe it's possible._ The urge bit. Before the nerve to thief could swell any larger, Peter appeared from the hallway with another yellow character at his side; Only it wasn't a plush this time.

The yellow Bonnie suit.

You curled your lip, never enjoying the looks of the yellow suits. The hatred for both was equal.

"I'm  **really** glad that's not me in there this time. I don't usually complain but I'd rather be dealing with parties of spoiled birthday kids than walk around in one of the sweatsuits all day. I've said the opposite in the past, but...I changed my mind." Zan said after taking a long chug from the water bottle he had brought. He had decided to take a short break and visit again.

"Wait...so if you're not in there, then WHO is?" You asked.

"I...I don't remember at the moment. I know it's one of the other guys, just can't think of his name right now. It'll come to me. Still, I'm glad it's not me, however, I AM a little concerned because I think the guy has asthma. Can't be good for him to be in that confining thing..." He answered.

"Fuck, no kidding." 

"Hey, you want anything while I'm up here? Water? Soda?" Zan offered.

"Uh...yeah, water actually..." You took the offer, feeling thirsty despite how early it still was.

Zan made a clicking noise with his mouth and headed into the kitchen. Around the same time Peter had parted ways with the yellow Bonnie and was close enough for you to get his attention.

"Hey, care to throw me a chair?" You asked with a tone of mild sarcasm but hoped he'd sense your sincerity. 

"Is that what you're gonna do today? You're gonna be needy?" He responded with agitated hostility.

"Dis coming from the one who hides out and sits on his ass in the office all day?" You mocked. 

"Watch it, Puppet." His voice lowered again.

There would always be a boundary when butting heads with him and its position changed depending on the day and his mood. As for today, he had nailed the sign of Do Not Cross in the ground clear for you to see.

 _Yeah, yeah...didn't think you would, anyway._ You admitted defeat and gave up on getting something to relax on. Peter hung around motionless for a couple more seconds before walking into the kitchen.

 _Watch out, Zan. And everyone else who's in there._ You warned silently to them, hoping nobody was goofing off at the wrong moment.

It was Zan who was quick to pop back out.

"Did you piss off Peter or somethin'?" He asked, making you believe your instincts were correct on the boss harassing everyone.

"I... joked with him just minutes ago that he didn't take too well. Why?" 

"I swear I didn't forget about your water break, but on my way out, Peter stopped me and made me leave it all behind. He said that if you wanted something then you had to be the one to ask **him**. What kind of joke did you make to get him to monitor your refreshments??" Zan explained, nonplussed. 

"Are you serious... He isn't letting you bring me water?"

Deep down you weren't too surprised by this behavior from Peter, especially since he's done this before back when he starved you, but having that abusive authority generate again randomly like this was almost beyond vexing. 

Zan shrugged dramatically and pointed at the kitchen before hurrying back to the table he was to be monitoring. Seconds later you saw why he was in such a rush. Peter came back out of the kitchen after another employee catered out a pizza for one of the tables. He strolled over to you, face absent of expression.

"You thirsty, needy bitch?" He asked.

Behind the mask you glared at him and silently snarled, wishing he could see your reaction...if he didn't already know what it was. Yes, he knew you too well by now, and he tended to do a lot of these things on purpose because he got a little tickle out of it, even if his mood meter was one level away from the red.

His stone face finally cracked when a corner of his mouth curled upwards. He was daring you to say something snarky. The both of you were aware of his temper and that his tolerance today was low, but he still found a way to entertain himself out of testing you, testing to see if you were smart enough to remember small details.

"Yes. Yes I am." You answered, not retaliating against the degrading name he used. This told him you were done being a smartass for today.

This was his (second) test.

 _Nice try_. You cried victory in your head but had a small wonder of what he'd do if you  _did_ fail this part and come back at him.

He wouldn't  **hit** you, would he?

_He might..._

You knew he could get pretty physical when angry. You had almost been strangled by him already, but you had yet to experience being struck.

After this acceptable response, Peter's tiny smirk shriveled back into nothing as he held out a bottled water and dropped it on the counter you were behind. It bounced off and fell by your feet.

"Ewwps." He said and left you to pick it up yourself.

"Thanks, asshole." You said after retrieval, but made sure your voice was too quiet for him to hear, even though he was halfway to his office by now.


	19. CRUNCH (2)

Being in a haze of daydreams, you were unaware of the first child approaching the Prize Corner. This entire time you were bored and relying on children to provide you activity; something you never thought would happen in your life. 

"I've got forty!" This kid declared, making you jump back into existence. He held a wad of tickets in his hands while staring at the many prize choices, though he eyed a lot of them that weren't in his price range.

"Okay...Look at the ones over here." You guided.

 _Please don't bitch over the other prizes._ A fit was the last thing you wanted to deal with besides an angry Peter.

"Gimme THAT one!" He picked out a cheap ring, and you handed it over. He proceeded to dump his ticket pile on the counter and run back to the arcade area.

_Awesome._

You stared at the littered tickets you were never told on what to do with. Your initial solution was to brush them off the counter and just let them stay on the floor until a staff member walked by, preferably Peter or Zan, but there was only one in sight, and it wasn't the friendly one.

 _Two unfriendly people, actually._ You corrected when seeing he was talking to Beth. About what exactly was unknown, but the manager looked definitely worked up about something, while Peter seemed absolutely uninterested in hearing what it was.

She finally left, and his lingering vision fell on your corner. He tensed when he saw you looking at him, already knowing he was wanted.

You easily guessed his thoughts, given by how his frown fell even lower:

_**Again** , you needy bitch?_

"Hey, can you water me?" Another voice caught you by surprise before Peter could be signaled. You glanced over and saw the large yellow Bonnie suit standing by your station. Your organs seemed to curdle when seeing the thing so damn close.

"Uh...water you?" You saw the water bottle in one of the large yellow hands.

"I seriously need a water break, but I can't really..." He moved the arms, demonstrating that he wasn't able to lift the bottle properly. It must've been harder to control than the Fredbear, considering Zan never needed much assistance other than getting in and out.

"Oh...gotcha. Yeah, sure." You agreed but halted when wondering if Peter would be okay with you helping the guy out.

You glanced back at big boss himself before taking another step. He must've known what the issue was since he made a notion with his chin, silently giving you permission to assist.

You leapt over the counter and took the bottled water from the yellow hand.

"Thanks. The band is about to start so I'm taking this moment to get a quick drink." The guy explained.

"No prob. I guess this suit isn't like the Fazbear one." You replied, lifting up the bottle to Bonnie's set of giant, creepy teeth.

"It's really not. In fact, this one has more precautions compared to the Fazbear one. It kind of freaks me out, but Peter insisted it be used for once instead of the damn bear." He said.

"Do I just...?" You were stuck figuring out how the guy was supposed to drink when a barrier of Bonnie teeth was in the way.

"Oh, just lift the top jaw up. It comes right off. Careful though, don't make it fall. Peter will have a cow." He instructed.

"Ehh...Peter can suck on a fat one." You responded, getting a giggle from the man.

"Go for the nose. It's easier to move that way." He told you an easier method.

You did so, pushing the round black nose upwards and parting the teeth successfully.

"Oh God, that thing's creepier when it's close up!" He commented on your mask being inches away from his face.

 _I thought the same thing about_ your _outfit not too long ago._  You kept the thought silent and started tilting the bottle.

"Why don't you take that thing off once in a while?" He asked.

"I don't want t—"

You had misjudged how full the bottle was, and some of the water spilled out, splashing the man in the face.

He yelped.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry, dude!" You repositioned the bottled. The spilt contents were already seeping into parts of the suit.

"That's alright. I think I'd be more pissed if it wasn't for the fact that the water feels pretty damn g—"

_**C R U N C H!** _

For a split-second the whole suit jerked like it had been electrocuted. The jaws slammed shut on their own, but you managed to pull away with quick reflexes before your hand could get caught. It wasn't the sudden movement out of nowhere that freaked you out; It was the sound produced when the suit seemed to lock up.

Unfortunately, you wouldn't be escaping completely ignorant.

Before the jaws closed, you felt liquid warmth spew on your hands, and you dropped the bottle of water to the floor. You could hear the man groaning inside the suit, as if he was trying to yell out or scream.

Finally noticing the red splatters on your hands, a gasp choked its way up.

_What the hell happened?!_

You tore your head over to Peter's direction, who was thankfully still standing there and witnessing the entire thing. 

He mouthed something that looked like _springlocks_ before jackknifing it to the scene.

The Bonnie suit fell backward, toppling to the floor. 

During this whole time the guests were distracted by the Fazbear band's intro when the curtains opened. The same couldn't be said for some of the staff, who were peering out of corners when seeing the fallen Bonnie. None of them saw the full incident occur, but their expressions weren't any less disconcerting. 

Surprisingly, a few of them made themselves useful instead of just standing there with stupid gazes. At least three you could see joined the guests near the main stage and stirred up enthusiasm, all to keep anyone from looking behind at what was unfolding.

 _A clever move._ You would've thought, if it wasn't for the strong smell screaming to be purged off your gore-streaked hands.

You coughed hard once, stomach acting up from the sight and scent, but you managed to keep things down and make it to the restroom, scrubbing your hands and nails until your skin was irritated.

A large portion of the sink area was mottled with diluted blood as you continued to cleanse and make sure there wasn't a splatter of red left.

_He bled...good God, the guy BLED on you!_

The sink's drain gurgled when swallowing the remaining water, and your gag reflex put up another fight you couldn't win.

When finally leaving the restroom, Peter and the Bonnie suit were gone, and the guests were still hanging around the stage despite closed curtains. Whatever the staff were doing to keep them occupied it was sure working.

Your sights fell on the exits and spotted a young man entering the building. He was dressed in green and his clothes were semi casual, like Peter's. You were unable to get a real look since he glanced over at the stage area for a split second and then disappeared down the office hallway.

_Who the hell was he?_

Whomever it may be, he seemed to know what he was doing and where he was going, but you've never seen him in the restaurant before.

However, there was a small hint of familiarity in his looks. As to why was unknown. His outfit was pretty formal in image but didn't quite match Fazbear standards. 

So, who was he? And why did he waltz in to the office area like he owned it?

Was Peter aware of this?

"Hey, what the hell happened with that guy? Is he okay?" Zan's voice pulled you out of your confusion.

You turned but didn't meet his stare.

The next challenge was deciding on if you should tell him  **exactly** what happened or just play stupid.

 _Peter wouldn't want you to tell anyone what happened_.

"I don't know." You answered him.

"Do you know where he went?" You asked your own question.

"I think Peter dragged him to his office. Props to him as that suit's pretty heavy. I mean the Fredbear one is, so I couldn't imagine the Bonnie one being any different." 

"So who's the guy in green that just walked in?" You brought up the random stranger.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The guy in the green clothes. They just walked in like a minute ago. Did you not see—" You finally locked stares with Zan and saw that his face was void of any answers.

"Never mind..." You gave up, and the young man shrugged.


	20. Recordings

Just when your hatred for the yellow suits couldn't grow any more, another reason was stacked. You tried experimenting with your own memory on what had happened.

The reason the tragedy stuck so well is because the guy's artery fluids vomited on you when he was crushed. Maybe if he hadn't bled you might've been able to convince yourself he was alright, or  _would_ be alright, but the damned sight of his blood...

_His head had been crushed._

The endoskeleton's joints were heard clicking back into place when the spring locks popped open.

_The merciless joints clicked back together after impaling his flesh and possibly his eyeballs and—_

You had to physically shake your head to get the visualization out of your mind, right after a tremble.

There was one upside to this day; the kids coming by the Prize Corner nonstop helped your mind forget about the incident. However, in between the rushes you found yourself scratching at your hands in a vigorous attempt to remove the man's blood that was no longer there.

As with every Sunday, the place closed several hours earlier than the norm. There was still day light and it felt nice to roam around without everything being pitch black. Zan and a few other employees remained, cleaning up the party tables that hadn't been used much.

"So I heard the guy was just having some sort of asthma attack, which caused him to fall 'cause he lost a bit of balance." Zan shared while you were wiping down the Corner's counter without much real effort.

" _What?_ "

No way he was talking about the Bonnie victim??

"Yeah. His asthma problems I told you about? I fetched his aspirator a couple of times for him. His attacks were brief and never needed much attention. He'd just take a huff of his medicine and it would be good for the day...but I didn't think he'd cause so much stress yesterday. I personally think it was his own fault for volunteering to be in the suit. That's just  **asking**  for an attack...just my two cents."

You couldn't believe this... _The staff were being lied to about something like this?_

"If that's true, then where is he now?" You challenged. You wanted to rip apart this bullshit theory, but you didn't want to give away that you actually knew about the truth.

"Ya got me there." Zan shrugged.

"Pete said the guy quit that night because he didn't want to risk any other attacks. I'll say it makes sense." He added.

 _Of_ course _it was Peter..._

"Hey Pup, what's wrong? You seem rather pissed about something." Zan called out your growing temper you were slightly unaware of.

"Nothing... I'm just tired is all. I want to sleep as soon as I'm finished with this."

"Want me to? I'll finish your part so you can jet early." He made a kind offer, but it wouldn't be happening.

"No. No I got this. I kind of...have like an OCD with finishing my work. I'll be a while so you might as well take off. You won't wanna wait for me."

"Jesus, you always stay behind. You're the last person to leave." He said.

"Yeah, and I have no problem with that. As long as everyone's paid right?"

"True enough! Alright, well, you have yourself a good night. Be safe out there!" He finished his goodbye's and was soon leaving the building. None of the other staff members bid you a farewell when exiting.

You tossed the still fairly clean rag on the floor and hopped over the counter. You were to always wait for Him at the end of the day. He was the one with the key to the back room. Thinking about this spiked your curiosity on his whereabouts. It was unlike him to be absent for so long after closing.

_Where was he?_

You had no patience to wait. You were worn out and just wanted to get back to your locked up state, and he was delaying this.

You grumbled but decided to search for him. Perhaps you were being a tad over dramatic since the easiest place to look was his office, and what do you know; the sonofabitch was in there.

He sat in his chair with his feet up in an indolent position. His eyes weren't on the security's video feed, otherwise he would've been aware of the arrival long before you even got there.

"Ughh...why do  _I_ have to be the one to record these fucking training tapes..." You heard him.

_Training tapes?_

What the hell was he talking about?

You put confronting him to the side and kept listening in. Fatigue was still alive, but wanting to know more about these tapes kept hold of your interest.

He cleared his throat before there was the snick of a button.

"Uh... for today's lesson we will be continuing our training on proper suit-handling techniques."

_Such a **forced**  high-tone._

Your brows furrowed and you blinked numerous times before processing this. He seemed to master talking in different voices...it amazed you... Until you remembered how good he was at Freddy's voice back when he was in the suit.

So he was recording training tapes. It explained why he had to be so verbally enthusiastic for it. The suit part is what kept you hooked; It must've had something to do with the event from yesterday.

"Do not  **breathe**  on the spring-locks . . . . . . . . . In the case of the spring-locks coming loose while you are wearing the suit, please try to maneuver away from the populated areas before bleeding out . . ." He continued on with the fucked-up how to's.

This part struck a physical cringe in you, and flash backs to when the Bonnie suit crushed the man harassed your thoughts, despite the efforts to keep them away. You only knew so much about the suits. You were learning that a spring-lock failure was responsible for the man's gruesome death _,_ but from what Peter was explaining it sounded like the real cause of the failure was from moisture.

You had poured water through the mouth of the Bonnie suit. The water fell onto the spring-locks and made them slip out of place. Was it  _your_  fault the man suffered the iron maiden treatment?

_If you had done a better job at helping him out—_

NO!

It wasn't your fault... He didn't know the dangers either... No one did. It was Fazbear's fault.

"As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." Peter ended the last part with an excruciating grin so the happy voice would sound genuine, and then you heard another snick of a button followed by more exasperated groaning. The chair creaked as he took his feet off the desk and adjusted his position.

 _Well, shit.._. You thought, not noticing Peter had glanced back over at his video feed.

"You might as well come in. Your strive for staying undiscovered is poor." He told you, snickering.

You were surprised by how calm he was with you snooping by his office. You snorted and folded your arms, but took a couple steps in, the energy of forbidden territory forever overbearing.

"I wasn't really striving. If you had kept going with that gender confused-sounding voice I would've given myself up eventually just to beg you to stop." You replied, hoping to screw with him as much as he did with you. He was either too preoccupied with the device or he simply wasn't affected by anything you dished out.

He turned his chair around half-way, showing the recorder still in his hand. He didn't look at you just yet. He pulled the tape out the device, plopped it on his desk, and took out a marker to label it.

"One take is enough." He projected his disinterest in recording a second time just in case.

"So were you missing me?" He asked in an abhorrent, teasing way.

"Not at all."

"Yeah, and the earth is flat." He responded.

You ignored this and moved along.

"Anyway, what exactly happened to that guy?"

There would be no need to detail the question any more. It made him go still for a second before he continued reorganizing his desk and wiping it down.

"We eventually got him out." He answered, his words fast.

_What did he mean by "we"?_

"You know what I mean...What the hell happened to him?"

He turned his chair again, his back to you a second time. He sighed and opened several drawers.

"I think you know the real answer already—what does your common sense tell you?"

So your instincts were already correct. You just wanted to imagine and hope it wasn't true, not until there was a confirmation.

"So, you said 'we got him out'. Who's the other person that makes it a 'we' and not just a ' **you** '? 'Cause no one else in this place has any idea what actually happened. So who else are you referring to?" You asked with a tone that demanded a real answer and not bullshit.

"And  _I_  sure as hell didn't help you pull him from that tomb obviously." You ended.

"A good 'ol family member from another restaurant. Maybe you'll learn more about them, maybe you won't. That's up to fate." He replied with no hesitation.

_Peter has family? At another restaurant??_

The memory of the young man entering the place yesterday swept by.

"Wait, the person in green?"

"Yup."

"What restaurant is HE from?"

"Don't worry about it." He responded, his voice a little deeper.

 _That was the sign._ You had hit your wall today. You were tired and the last thing needed on your case was a pissed-off Peter. You took the hint and ceased.

"How did it feel on your hands?" He asked.

What the hell was he talking about?

"Uh...what?" You stumbled.

He finally turned his chair all the way, facing you completely. His eyes were empty but his mouth curled into a perverted smile; typical signs meaning he was up to something, big or small.

"The blood got on you, right?"

"Yeah...? I was scrubbing it off for almost ten minutes."

"Oh...Why would you go and do  _that?_ "

The muscles in his face moved again, and he looked almost disappointed by what you were telling him.

"Because it was disgusting. I'm not gonna parade around the place with that shit on me. Not to mention...why the hell do you even care?"

Upon asking this you received a quick flash back to when his hands were gloved with blood, back when you had been drugged and he did... things.

He rose hands a few inches above his shoulders like he was silently saying " _Dunno"_ , smile humorous now. Fatigue was throwing another wave at you and this strange conversation lost its value.

"Just open the room for me. I want to kill the day dead already."

After so much time wasted, you got to your one priority.

"Some things you need to get aquatinted to..." He stated a bit quiet, but your ears were in good distance. There was no way his comment was directed towards your request about him letting you sleep finally...

You turned back in confrontation.

"Yeah? What about your staff and their knowledge on the guy's death? You just gonna cover everything up and pass it off as a little accident and that he conveniently quit? Just make some training tapes and your ass is covered?"

You hadn't planned on bringing this up until your nerve twitched again. Out of the corner of your vision you saw Peter's dumb smile fall a notch.

"If you're wanting to sleep  _well_  tonight, I chiefly suggest you fuck off about what happened yesterday and mind your damn business."

Tone darkened, you were quick on heeding his warning. He was dead serious about this and wanted you to never bring it up again. You may have been obeying but your attitude was still playing around the fire. You rolled your eyes and made an exit finally.

"Aye aye, Cap'n Lavender." You re-entered the halls. While waiting for him to leave the office you dwelled on his question from minutes ago.

_"How did it feel on your hands?" "Why would you go and do a thing like that?"_

He was too fascinated with you being splashed in red, then wasn't at all pleased with your decision on washing it away.

 _Just because you like that shit on your hands doesn't mean **I**  do_. You wish you had gone with this earlier. Another thought ran, making you halt and stare into nothing. You still had no idea where that blood came from, the massive amount he had on  **his**  hands during that night _..._

Now there was something new to eat away at your curiosity, and you betted it wouldn't be pacified.

 _"Some things you need to get acquainted to."_  He clearly had some wild fantasy of getting you used to being slimed with the sick stuff. 

"Alright, let's give beauty her rest." Peter's voice broke your trance. At least the bright side was that you'd finally get sleep soon.

"If you want my hands so crimson then just buy me red gloves."

There was always the ongoing battle of having the last word between the two of you before it was lights out.

"Wouldn't be the same." He answered when opening the abnormal door.

Now it was back to weird.

"You know you wouldn't be able to get me to wear that shit. Ever. It ain't clothes that you slip on, bruh." You said.

"Don't try informing me of what I'm not capable of, especially when I  **know** I am." He was somber again, causing you to turn back to him while standing halfway inside The Room. He moved close, sizing you up, and you didn't challenge.

"I could  _bathe_ you in it if I wanted to. It'd be like a nice red bath. Sounds purdy, right? A niiiice red bath..." He smiled large, baring his white teeth. Your mind popped up a response too good to let go.

"Well, in that case...skip the gloves, buy me a tub." Your grin dominated his, enough to wipe it clean off. In seconds you were falling to the chamber floor when he'd violently shove you inside. The door was slammed shut and locked before you could even say ow.

You picked your head up and continued sneering in triumph, despite nobody seeing it. For once you had nabbed the last word of the argument, winning by default of being a smartass.


	21. Suspicion

It was a rare move but you had actually accepted the large cake slice offered by a table of parents for being such a friendly puppet to the kids. Part of it may have had to do with the pastry being a favorite flavor of yours, with plenty left. What harm could come from taking a helping from a guest's birthday cake?

You were careful in keeping your face hidden but were able to still enjoy the tasty pleasure when one particular child had sneezed hard in your direction. Unbeknownst to practically everyone around, the little girl was battling a bad cold and had let out not one or two, but four sneezes until there was a trail of runny mucus going down her nose. Her parents instantly got on the case by cleaning her up, but you were stuck with your hands being sprayed by her oral and nostril fluids.

Calmly slipping away from the table, you trashed the cake slice and spent several minutes in the bathroom washing your hands with generous amounts of soap and hot water.

Fate was a bitch despite the odds. You woke up several days later to a tingling throat that spread all over your head, causing your eyes to water and your nose to sneeze and your chest to trigger bad coughs.

"Fucking kids..." You had said out of spite.

* * *

  
With the fresh cold to the side, Peter's controlling behavior was spiking without much warning. There was no guess on what was making him do this, only he was ordering you to stay at the prize corner again and not walk near any of the guests.

You weren't enjoying the "leash" in the slightest—it kept you from having the freedom of walking around like you were so used to when bored. His grip was tightening and you could only obey, but not without at least trying to find an excuse from his stricter rules. 

"What if the kids want the Puppet?" You had asked him. At the same time you were waiting for the place to open, holding in your gagging coughs.

Peter acted like it wasn't even happening.

"That's now for parties that request it; which will cost a bit extra, but y'know, a lot of these kids have authority over their parents instead of vice versa. No complaints here. It helps bring in good coin." He responded with a greedy smirk while flicking his fingers against each other, symbolizing money.

"Anyway, ya need anything from me before I disappear? Soda? Water? ...Tissues?" He asked at the same moment you sneezed in the mask. His grin curled, able to keep himself from chortling at your bad luck.

"Fucking joke all you want, but those would actually be of help." You retorted, sniffing up the falling snot.

He snapped his fingers and left. With there still being a few minutes until opening, you took the chance to grab paper towels from the restroom. After an uncomfortable nose-blow, you headed back and saw a box of tissues opened and ready for usage on your counter.

 _Peter actually gave these to you?_ It was a little foreign to see him provide something of need.

The trash bin behind the Corner became useful and filled to the brim with tissues after only a few hours. The day had been slow, which you were thankful for, but another surprise was about to hit.

Zan came over to the Corner when there was just one family dining, giving almost everyone nothing to do. He was out of the Fredbear suit again, which you were sure he enjoyed, given by how extra positive he seemed.

"Whut's upp?" You addressed him after blowing your nose and tossing the tainted tissue.

He looked grossed out.

"Y'know, for once, I'm actually wishing I was back in the suit. Shield and all.." He joked while watching you straighten the mask out.

"Yeah right. If you knew what kind of build up that thing has from over the years I can bet you'd take second-hand snot over the suit any day." You countered.

"I....fair enough."

"So wattya want? Not that I'm trying to get rid of you." You asked him again. It was evident he was just bored and wanted to chat for a bit.

"Nothin' much. Just came to see how you were doing. Which it looks to not be so well." 

"I'll be fine. Just not used to being sick. But I guess it could be worse. I could have a high fever and shit..." You found a bright side.

"I guess you should probably get back to work. With how much Peter likes being up people's asses for little things..." You encouraged him to leave, but only because you didn't want him getting in trouble. He's the only person here who was a pleasant to chat with, and you'd hate to see him get shit-canned.

"Go back to _what_? What's there to do? Harass the family who've already told me they'd let me know if they need anything? I've already done all I could do." He said.

 _Okay, that's fair_. You admitted before reaching for another tissue and looking away from him.

"It's a weird question and all, but I gotta ask, how do you get to work so early?" He brought up.

"Huh?" 

"You're always here first. With Peter. Do ya live close to this place, or...?"

 _This wasn't a detail you expected anyone to take notice in..._ However, there was no real need to make a big deal out of it. He practically gave an answer **for** you.

"Yeah, I live just across the big field behind the place. Doesn't take me long to get here." You wove up a convincing fib. 

"No kidding? Which street? I may be close by." He asked. 

_Fuuck..._

You didn't know the names of the streets near the restaurant on the top of your head, and staying silent on this part only made things awkward if not strange. Your mind threw out a response at the last second.

"Why? You gonna come sneak in my place when I'm asleep?" You jested, getting a laugh from him.

His face soon dispelled of humor and looked somber for a brief moment, then disquieted. It was the weirdest thing you ever saw from him. He leaned in a little close, content on not letting anyone else here the conversation. 

"Hey, to tell you the truth, I'm actually new to this town. Moved in several months ago. So believe me when I tell you I'm not up to date on any drama here, whether it be in the place of work or just on the streets." He started low. You lagged a bit in crumbling up your newest tissue.

"Uhh...okay?" You said.

What was so important about this?

_You were about to find out..._

"This may be old news to you but it's definitely new to _me_... I've only just learned about the strange incidences and disappearances with a number of kids in this town." He said, glancing in different directions with furtive behavior. 

"I gotta tell ya, that's NOT something I want to hear when moving in. And to make shit worse, this very  _restaurant_  has been investigated before. You knew that, right?" He told you like it was some super top secret that should never get out. Your face rose in temperature, but everything else stayed relaxed.

"Yeah. I do. This place was found innocent too." You told him what was technically the truth.

"Well, if you've been working here for as long as you say you have, you would remember _this_ specific case." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of newspaper.

You paused for a second to cough hard through the mask before taking the paper from him. Upon seeing its details, your heart felt like it was having a seizure. First thing to catch your eye was the picture of you on it; Your latest school picture. Your eyes yanked downwards, reading the small article below it.

**[Full Name], a fifteen year-old that attended [School], went missing around [Month], just a few weeks shy of his sixteenth birthday. He was last seen attending at the popular children's restaurant, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria with his family. Although it has been highly speculated and rumored that the diner was involved, police have just declared the pizzeria clear of all charges and suspicion of causing his disappearance. There was no evidence to be found that listed any staff of the pizzeria to be suspected of such crime. [First Name] still remains missing and his case remains open.**

You were sweating bullets behind the mask and were desperately trying to stop your heavy mouth breathing. Your mind cogs were on overdrive as you thought of something to say before Zan had the chance to start talking again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember that one, alright. It was a hell of a day, I'll tell you." You put on an act of remembering the drama that flooded the restaurant. _Even though you were locked up in a room when said drama was going on._

"I didn't ask anyone else because I figured they either weren't really allowed to talk about it or they just didn't want to. So I thought I'd ask someone who's a bit more...open to me. So I came to you."

This was understandable, but the sheer irony was painful.

"To be honest, I actually asked Peter about this first." He confessed.

Your muscles tensed, knowing he was the worst person to ask about this; after all, it was his own crime!

"He told me to drop it and never bring the shit up again." Zan went on and gave a nervous smile. 

_You could only imagine why._

"So, I'm asking you as a buddy...could you PLEASE tell me everything you know about this. I'm sorry...just...I'm really curious about what went on. I won't bring it up again after this if you just fill me in on the details."

You straightened out your posture and tried thinking of another convincing fib that would leave him satisfied.

"Yeah sure. Um... I wasn't here for too long, but... The kid came in with his family. It was his sister's birthday I think. They went to the stage to take pictures of the animatronics and he...well...he left. Between you and me, he told me he was going for a smoke break. I don't judge, so ...I just watched him go. I mean, I couldn't stop him or anything but...there's a part of me that wishes I had done something. Then maybe I COULD'VE stopped it. But y'know...no one's psychic." You sniffled and coughed in between your "story". It all felt strange saying this. There was a particle within wondering if you really _were_ wishing something was done to alter the outcome that day.

"I'm not saying this is true and that I believe it or anything but...several of the other workers here say you didn't climb on board until several months ago; a bit  **after** the incident, and the Puppet character hadn't been around before that. Only after." He stated. Now your insides felt too paralyzed to even cough.

"Yeah? And what the hell do _they_ know? They're the ones who also like chatting about me behind my back, thinking I won't find out. So take your pick on who you're willing to trust here."

There was a little more defense in your tone than intended. It was enough to make Zan put his hands up, as if to push himself away from the counter.

"Aiight, relax! I was just repeating. I won't stir any shit pots." 

 _Then why did you even say it?_ You wanted to ask aggressively but knew curiosity tended to get the best in pretty much everyone. Zan wasn't to blame.

"I feel like someone's been holding an onion to my eyes all day..." You stated miserably.

"Y'know, I've always wondered what color they were." Zan said.

"Red."

"C'mon, you know what I meant." 

"Why does it matter?" You asked, knowing he wanted you to remove the mask, which wouldn't be happening.

"I'm curious. Is that so bad? I'm just curious today. There's nothing to do, and I like learning new things." 

"Yah, clearly." You replied. Deep inside, you felt a small wall building up in your mind, and it stacked and grew higher with how much he kept asking. 

_Why would he suddenly want to know the appearance of your eyes? After you've explained to him your "reasons" for not showing yourself to anyone._

You froze when seeing him gazing at your picture.

_No..._

You desperately hoped it wouldn't be true, but it was becoming more obvious.

_Zan was suspicious!_

It was one thing to bring up that day, but to go as far as saving an article about it? He could've just simply _asked_ you about that day and not have to show-and-tell his discovery. There was reason he had the photo with him...

_That was it._

He had some wild hope in his head that he'd be lucky enough for you to show him your face as a clever way to compare you to the photo.

Speaking of clever, with your nose beginning to tickle from the inside, you formed an incredible plan to change the subject by force. You tilted the chin of the mask a little upwards, making Zan's eyes sparkle a little. He actually thought you were about to show him your face.

 _Sorry about this, buddy_... You silently apologized in advance when feeling the full-on sneeze build in your system, and then released it, spraying a misty mixture of mucus and saliva onto his hands that were propped up on the counter.

His eyes widened in horror and disgust. His mouth opened and drew in a gasp of shock, his face twisting in sickness.

"UUGHH, WHAT THE HELL?!" He yelped, pulling his hands back and dangling them away from his own body so he wouldn't spread the germs any further on himself.

You took in a quick breath, your body conjuring another sneeze. Zan ran off this time, making it into the men's restroom to scrub his infected hands for the next ten minutes.

 _Good riddance_. You thought when watching him go, while blowing your nose into yet another tissue. Upon throwing it away, you crumbled up the picture of yourself and made it join the soggy pile.


	22. Halloween

*

The favorite holiday for many children (and adults) had rolled around, and your mother was fitting your fussing sister into her new costume. It was nothing special or original; a typical girl's princess dress. The only difference is she'd be carrying a star-tipped wand around with her. This meant she wasn't just a princess, but a  _magical_ one! Oh wait, but that wasn't all! To complete her look she'd be putting on a pair of wings over her back.

A magical FAIRY princess!

_If you had a nickel..._

There was almost a humorous urge to place bets on how many other costumes like hers there'd be out there tonight. As for _you,_ there was no costume. You stayed in pants and a t-shirt while waiting for the two ladies to get a move on and leave the house.

" **[First Name]** , are you not going trick-or-treating with us?" You were asked. 

"Uh...nah. I think I'll stay here." 

"Aww! But I want you to come with!" Your sister begged with her puppy-dog eyes. This tactic had worn off years ago.

"It's okay, hon. This just means that there will be more candy for _you_!" Your mother told her.

"So what will YOU be doing?" She asked before opening the front door.

" _Someone's_ gotta hand this candy out to the other trick-or-treaters." You replied.

"Alright then, **[First Name]**. We'll be back in a few hours. Don't get too lonely."

Mother and daughter headed out the front door, making their adventure to the first house on the block. You waited for over ten minutes and checked outside again. The sun was a half hour from being completely gone from the sky, and your mother and sister were nowhere to be seen.

 _Good. This means they moved on to another neighborhood._ You assured yourself and took out a hidden cigarette from your pocket. This is what you were waiting on; to start having a smoke while the family was out celebrating. You had several puffs before catching the sight of several groups of children turning the corner into your neighborhood, souring your mood a bit. You dropped the cancer stick and crushed it before anyone could really tell what you were up to.

You sat straight, preparing a faux smile when the first arrivals came close enough. There were three kids dressed up; one as a cheap ghost, another a cowboy, and the third a dinosaur. It looked...cute. In an adorable way. Upon approaching they bleated the infamous words said on Halloween, and you grabbed the bowl of candy your parents had left by the door and began giving them each a handful

"Thank you!" The cowboy was first to thank your generosity and the other two repeated after him.

"You're welcome." You told them back, feeling a bit warm on the inside. It was a cuddly feeling that put a genuine smile on. It brought back memories of when you were this young and enjoying October's finest event.

The horrendous feeling of not wanting to be an adult soon trickled in your mind, and you had a mild experience of the kid-version midlife crisis. You were too old to want to do these things...but you still WANTED to! You were still young, you could enjoy it!

_Kids my age still trick-or-treat, don't they?? They still have fun!..._

The sudden sound of a mother's nagging interrupted your stressful debate.

"I told you, you're not to eat while we're trick-or-treating! You just loss half of your candy count tonight!" She scolded her son, who groaned but put an end to the fuss before losing anymore privileges. This instantly put a stop to your self-pity on growing older. Now you were reminded of the _good_ that came out of it.

Your parents certainly wouldn't be controlling how much  _you_ ate tonight! A half-smile was brought back and you quickly got over the loss of your much younger days. You were fast to give the kid his share as you didn't want to be around the tense mother, and they soon left, but not before another small group showed up. One of the kids was in a costume you immediately recognized.

"Heyy, it's Bonnie!" You called out, loving the hard work put into this homemade piece. It was yellow, just like the actual Bonnie suit from Fazbear's. The parents laughed, feeling flattered their kid was getting so much attention over it, and the boy inside took all he could get.

"I'm not just Bonnie, I'm a KILLER Bonnie!" He squeaked, raising his cheap plastic knife mottled with a dark red paint. You raised a brow, finding it interesting that someone took the beloved character and put them on this kind of level.

"Believe me, we tried to make it 'normal' Bonnie, but he insisted on the knife part." The mother chuckled as she explained, slightly embarrassed at her son's lust for being a violent version of the popular rabbit.

_Meh._

You still thought it was cool, and expressed this by giving him an extra handful of candy, and he thanked you endlessly, and they finally moved onto the next house. You spent an extra long few minutes watching them introspectively.

_Ha! A killer Bonnie. Who could believe such a thing??_


	23. Red bath

Earlier in the morning, when everything had yet to open, it became progressively evident that Peter was up to something peculiar. He normally always was but his happiness and energy level was something among the anomalous.

 _He was hyper, like a damn child_. 

Things always went smoother when he was in a good mood. This went for everyone else in the restaurant, staff and all. Only thing to make it strange was that it was a Sunday. It wasn't his  **worst** day, but it wasn't his best, either—It certainly wasn't one to make him this chipper.

To add on, he had given you not one but two cigarettes to smoke after the place closed a couple hours earlier than the weekday times.

"You've earned it." He'd praise.

"Uhhm...thanks." Was all you could say back.

You weren't exactly sure on what you **did** that counted as a super job to where it was deserving of smokes, but you weren't going to refuse the generosity, either. Before the uppity man could possibly change his mind, you disappeared outside in the back where the dumpsters resided.

 _And that purple car_.

By now it was obvious it belonged to the man who shared the identical shade. You took the chance to get a closer look and scrutinize its features. The inside was clean and looking furbished. At the very least you expected there to be some kind of litter, whether it be just an empty cup or a crumbled up napkin.

 _Or party confetti_. Your mind jumped to the funnier imagery of a giant party popper. A smirk played before you lit the first cancer stick and returned to the side of the building, sitting down. You took in the first suck and blew out several billows while thinking about irrelevant things, Peter's car and fashion being one of them.

 _What's his obsession with purple?_ You had always wondered. It would be understandable if it was a required uniform, but with his vehicle bearing the same tone as all his clothes, this spelled more than a coincidence.

 _Might as well start calling him "Purple Guy"_. The joke came silently, though you were sure he wouldn't find it as funny.

The sky was a hue of orange and yellow by the time both cigarettes were finished. From where you were relaxing several small shopping centers that lead into town could be seen...and the large field half a mile long that separated the restaurant and those areas.

 _And to think all that needed to be done was just simply stand up...and_ run. You thought, but didn't feel the slightest urge to abandon Fazbear's property.

 _Or Peter_.

He was the one you truly refused to abandon.

Your eyes closed and you tried to imagine the escape; imagining you had the guts and broke for it, running across the field of freedom and getting back into town. From that point it didn't matter where you went, as long as you told someone who you were and that you needed to get back to your parents and a man needed to be locked up—

A splash of extreme discomfort washed over your nervous system to where you physically cringed and forced your roaming mind to focus on something else to pass time. But one thing was evident; you were too attached. He had you wrapped around his finger.

_You were stuck here!_

Upon reminding yourself of the tethered connection with Him, you stood back up, finished with the break. Your attitude was lethargic all of the sudden, not feeling up for much. You walked back into an empty hallway and headed back to the dining area, noticing Peter still absent. The faint sound of children laughing fluttered by.

But that couldn't be possible—the place was closed and kids weren't allowed in past this point.

Was it perhaps...kids _sneaking_ in?

May not have been too far off of a guess since daring youth were typical.

 _Just find them and scare them off._  

However, try as you might, no rebellious tykes were anywhere to be found. But you had heard them, and  _kept_ hearing them! From one of the party rooms. And it only became more obvious when approaching the one room out of the two with its door closed.

 _Were they even_ trying _to be sneaky?_ The thought crept in when realizing the giggles of these "hidden" children did not have that specific chime of excitement that rooted from mischievous behavior. In fact, it sounded like someone was putting on a show for them while they rejoiced.

_"Someone"..._

A grave feeling rose blackly from the inner most depths of your being. For several minutes you were at a complete loss and had no earthly clue on what action to ensue next. Were you supposed to go in? Were you to just walk away and pretend nothing was heard to begin with?

The pendulum of choices oscillated back and forth before you noticed that all faint giggles and laughter had ceased. There wasn't even a mutter or cough to signify the children on the other side were still active.

And it went on forever, as if everyone in the room had mysteriously vanished.

You were proven to be mistaken upon hearing just a single sound shuffling around inside. With curiosity halved by tense concern, you cautiously approached and put an ear on the door.

Heavy steps.

 _Just open it already, for fuck's sake!_ An ember of bold courage singed your nerves and you straightened up and grabbed the knob, flinging the door open.

Inside held a decorated table with banners and hats and even cake...and occupancy. There were kids alright, but they were all—

 _Don't say it_. A piece of your conscience implored to stay ignorant. And innocent.

There were four of them; two boys, two girls. Each one had a slice of unfinished cake on a plate nearby. Their clothes were vibrant, almost matching the crazy colors of the table cloth _they were slumped ove_ r.

The yellow rabbit who yanked your attention now came into play. It stiffened, being caught completely off guard. Then its posture relaxed again.

"You weren't really supposed to be here yet, but...It's alright. I can work with this." Said the dark voice behind yellow Bonnie's smiling mouth.

"Come on over here. I'll show you what's happening." It invited.

Not surprisingly, the man inside was a little more than triggered by your refusal.

Backing away only made things worse.

"I said come **here**." He ordered again. A long and sharp frosted object—that you just now noticed in one of the yellow hands—glimmered before being violently grounded into the helpless arm of a girl near him. The awful sound of merciless metal meeting soft flesh wasn't something you ever imagined. The reaction of blood wasn't any better.

_He just stabbed a Goddamn child!_

Just like that! No hesitation. As if he were merely planting a stake or flag into the earth.

You coughed a gasp and felt dizzy from the corrupted scenery.

You weren't even aware of fainting until Peter was picking you back up, free from the yellow suit this time.

"That shit isn't needed." He said with tightened eyes.

"Control yourself!" He said next. Right after this your head turned, sight lingering back to the scene. The empty yellow Bonnie suit was huddled in a far corner behind the party table. The four kids...were still slumped and lifeless. The arm of the girl who had been stabbed was still bleeding.

_BLEEDING!_

With her arteries still drooling rapidly, this could only mean that—

she was still alive, all of them.

"There's still plenty left!" Peter proclaimed, now switching to a morbid excitement.

"I mean, you can't eat the cake. Well...I guess you could, but then you'd miss out on the fun part!"

All sense and reactions returned when he started to drag you toward the grisly spot where four unconscious, but very alive children lay.

" _Stop_!" You protested and pulled away, but went nowhere. You were back in his grip no sooner, the words of objection having nil effect.

He slid a hand across his face, as if he were wiping it, creating a large streak of gleamy red that covered most his mouth. This is when you learned both his hands were covered in the same substance again, just like the very night you were laced.

"What the hell are you doing..." You threw out a useless question due to lack of not being able to find any other words that would help you in comprehending what was happening around.

"Giving you a red bath, smart mouth." He answered with almost all rasp. He then forced the knife—used in the stabbing—to your face, all the while he had his arm around your neck and chest, locking you in place.

"Give it a taste." He encouraged and tilted the dull end of the frosted yet bloodied weapon closer, pushing it against your lips.

" **No—** " You intended on putting much more emphasis into this, if it weren't for the man forcing the metal passed your opened lips, successfully splattering your available tongue and teeth with its contents.

Before you could even think about spitting the horrid stuff out, his slimed hand smacked against your whole mouth area, keeping it shut. The sugariness of the buttercream frosting, blended with a metallic flavor, spread through and over your tastebuds while mixing in your saliva. When meeting your throat your gag reflex kicked with fury. It was like swallowing backwashed blood from a nosebleed.

"Don't." He firmly ordered, prohibiting regurgitation. When realizing you wouldn't be making this so easy, he forced your head back, making you gaze at the textured ceiling. He petted your exposed throat.

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way." You heard him say.

 _Oh God no.._. You nearly wailed in silence.

"Don't worry. It ain't enough to make you all lame like the tykes here." He said calmly, referring to how the cake's frosting was basically the official culprit of the four children's physical state.

* * *

 

There was no telling how long you were trapped with Peter and his helpless victims. By some unexplainable miracle, he wasn't angered at how you eventually fled when getting the wonderful chance. If anything he was dispirited, but not furious. And he gave no chase. He simply went back to finishing the slow, egregious slayings.

Everything had gone by like a blur. A red blur.

 _A red bath!_ A fucking red bath.

You were close to collapsing from the overwhelming trembles taking over. A look at your hands told you water needed to be hit as soon as possible. They were coated, as was your face and hair.

In _blood_.

No matter what was done, said, or how you pleaded, it did nothing to stop Peter from painting you like some sick living canvas earlier.

You made it over near the men's bathroom but changed your mind when noticing that The Room yards away was somehow open.

Clothes were changed, skin was soaked and beaten with heavy pressured water, but the smell of death and unnatural metal could not be rid of, even when you were completely "cleaned". It was your long hair that had soaked in most of the horrible scent. Like a sponge. And when this was registered, a new solution was put together.

You eventually entered Peter's office while he remained occupied with the gore fest.

 _You didn't care._ You didn't care if he would become irate with what was about to happen.

His desk drawers were searched and numerous questionable folders and sheets were ignored until the precious tool you were searching for was found.

Scissors.

And with such scissors, off went a generous amount of long, straight, purple locks, sprinkling the floor below until the queasy metallic scent faded away for good.


	24. Car

*

"Hey  **[First Name],**  you gotta try this shit!"

One of your ambitious friends tried encouraging you to drop the cancer stick and venture onto something more audacious. You calmly blew out fresh smoke while staring at him with slight disregard if he were to actually accept something unknown from one of the older teenagers.

Well, whatever trip may occur in his situation, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. You declared to stick with smoking cigarettes and nothing else. There were only a handful of teens in the park and half of them were unfamiliar. One of them was almost eighteen. It just seemed particularly odd that he was hanging around with younger teens who were still a couple years shy of their sweet sixteen.

Only reason to still hang around these other kids was that you all shared the same hobby of smoking, and that was it. There was also the assumption of your friends thinking it looked cool to be hanging out with older students.

Trust with these acquaintances continued declining when they talked more and more about their favorite pass time hobbies that included drugs, and not the feeble ones, either. If your friends weren't around, you would've walked back home. Even now, you leaned against one of the medium-sized trees several feet away from everyone else and eventually dwelled on your own thoughts to pass time.

The cigarette you were working on eventually met its end, and you flicked it hard onto the freshly watered grass. Ever so slowly, proper sense of smell returned and you soon caught the scent of something burning near the other teens, and it wasn't cancer sticks. It was oily and pungent.

You glanced back at the group and saw one of the older kids with something small and white in his mouth. He took a long inhale, held it, and spastically coughed everything out. It looked downright unpleasant, but the boy was smiling while his eyes watered and turned glassy. He was demonstrating to everyone.

" _Everyone_ does this! If you can handle cigarettes you can definitely handle this! Actually, it's a lot less damaging than nicotine." He explained.

"It's weed, isn't it?? I heard so much about this shit!" 

You lost interest and were about to dig for another cigarette when your name was called again.

"C'mon, man, this stuff ain't dangerous! It's completely natural. It feels good, trust me! My brother does this." You were begged.

Deep down you were more than curious about cannabis as many stories were all around in school. So suddenly you weren't hesitant to give something new a try, and you rejoined them. The white wrapped object—you would later learn it was called a blunt—was passed around. It finally got to you.

The last one.

_Typical._

You picked it up, inspecting it first while your friends coughed and laughed at your artless curiosity.

"Don't just stare at it, put it in your mouth!" One of them cracked a sexual joke, and everyone (except for you) howled with laughter.

You finally wrapped your lips around it and the "instructor" gave directions.

"Okay, when you suck in, you gotta hold it. Hold it in your lungs for a few seconds and then blow it out. If you don't do this you won't get high and you'll just waste it." 

You were understandably nervous, but if your bonehead friends could do it, so could you. You inhaled the smoke and held your breath while letting things sit for a few seconds. Then you let it out.

The overwhelming sensation to cough flooded your throat and you immediately surrendered to a hacking fit. It lasted for close to a minute until the urge faded, and your head slowly felt like it was both weighted yet floating. You felt so..."chill" was the best description. Carefree. The toothy grins from the other kids enhanced when they saw how enjoyable it was to you.

"What'd I tell ya?" 

This certainly felt more interesting than smoking cigarettes. You could get very used to this...

"Only downside is that this stuff is hard to come by. My only outlet is my cousin and he's on probation." The carrier of the cannabis revealed with disappointment.

Before anyone could respond, one of the teens you barely knew cocked his head to the side and stretched his neck awkwardly.

"Anyone of you waiting for a ride or something?" He asked with a trace of worry.

"No, why?" 

"There's a car just sitting there across the street in the parking lot." 

"Dude, there's a lot of cars just sitting there." 

"No, that one pulled up moments ago. I watched them. No one ever got out of it. They're just...  _sitting_ there. It's even still running." Discomposure replaced curiosity in his tone. You all turned heads and peered across the street.

"The dark purple one by itself." 

Sure enough, there was a decent-looking lavender car parked away from the other filled spaces. You all stared like silent figurines. The windows were too tinted to see who was inside, which made it all the more creepy.

"Shit, i'm paranoid as fuck now..." One of the older teens stated, making everyone else lose their nerve.

"What the hell do they want?" You asked. If you were in the right state of mind you would've noticed how bad the overreaction was, but this drug taken in for the first time amplified paranoia. However, the growing fear was stomped when someone else put in their comment.

"That jackass is taking up two parking spaces." He pointed out. This caused everyone to laugh uncontrollably. Humor had also been amplified, and you quickly dropped your worries and carried on the laughter until the dreadful sight of a law enforcement vehicle came into view, putting an end to the frivolity. 

"Shit! Alright, time to break up this gathering." One of the older kids blurted and instructed everyone to just look casual. 

Your friends said their quick good-bye's to the others and promised they'd meet up again soon, and the older teens cut across the park and quickly vanished behind a thickening brush leading to a nearby neighborhood.

You and your group walked calmly. A little furtive, but innocuous. Thankfully, the cop car stuck around for only a minute before descending into town. Everyone relaxed, but no one wanted to push their luck any further. It was time to get home.

One by one, your friends broke off and headed in the direction of their own houses, and within a few minutes you were alone. It mattered not since the street to your own neighborhood would draw near soon. To you, this was enough time to smoke one last cancer stick before calling it quits for the day. You dug in a pocket and prepared the stick while fetching for your large lighter.

You flipped open the lid, triggering a spark, and lowered your head to meet flame. When pulling back, an intriguing reflection in the lighter's metal caught your attention.

_Purple..._

_That damned car??!!_ Was the first thought that came to mind. You didn't want to turn around and actually _look_. It could've made things worse if the person knew you were aware of them.

You took the smoking stick out your mouth and breathed on the lighter, fogging it up. You used your shirt to rub it clean, then re-steadied it to get a clearer view. A massive wave of fear and paranoia engulfed your body to where your knees almost locked, but you managed to keep your stride. All thoughts had been horribly correct; the purple car was behind you, but not terribly close.

But close enough for you to notice their speed wasn't at all normal. They were going slow for a reason.

You were being followed.

Panic arose, but you took a deep breath and came up with a plan. You popped the cancer stick back in your mouth and took a long inhale to help relax, biding your time as another neighborhood came up.

You needed to get this stranger off your ass as soon as possible. You casually turned, entering the neighborhood and disappearing out of sight, and immediately bolted, ditching the cancer stick in some bushes.

With no time to wait for someone to answer their doorbell, you did the only thing you could think of; you went for the nearest fence, climbed, and hopped over into the backyard. The car's roaring engine was heard, disturbing the street's peace.

It too had turned into the neighborhood.

You stayed sitting against the thick wooden fence when the backyard revealed a couple of dogs patrolling the property. They probably would've spelled even more bad news...if they were of size.

They were small; no bigger than ten pounds at most, but this didn't stop them from _behaving_ like a 200-pound guard beast. Their sharp yips pierced your ears when raising the alarm, expecting their owner to come out. This was yet another challenge; facing the angry owner of the home. But you were prepared with your honest and very acceptable excuse. Who wouldn't understand the seriousness of a kid being followed by a stranger in a car?

You waited for the back door to open, but it never did. The owners must not've been home.

The little canines never took charge. They kept their distance, as if they were fully aware of their disadvantage in size compared to you, but this didn't stop the angry shrills. You heard the car nearing this side again, and your patience ran thin.

" _Shut up_!"

Miraculously, the pooches ceased their noise, leaving the nearby car engine as the only audible sound. You tensed up and waited.

And waited.

The car finally exited and furiously sped off down the street. You gave yourself a few more minutes to make sure the mystery driver wouldn't be coming back before standing back up and climbing the fence again. You glanced back at the mongrels one last time.

"Sorry, guys." You apologized before jumping down and exiting the neighborhood completely. You walked fast and evasively, jumping at the sight of every passing car before making it home, but that purple one wasn't seen again.


	25. Close call

His entry was dramatic. He confronted you back in the room hours later after finishing his reign of hell. In his hand now were lost locks of your purple hair, sliced off earlier as a final way to cleanse yourself from the _red bath_.

"Who authorized you to do this?!" He bellowed in your face, nearly crushing the bits of hair he held.

" _I_ did." You responded intrepidly.

He lifted his hand as if to strike, but then stopped and settled on grabbing the front collar of your fresh shirt, pulling you in close.

"You don't do this without MY permission! You don't ravage your image like this!" 

_Why was he so upset about the loss of hair? It would grow back!_

"Fucking chill, It's not like I shaved it." You said. To be quite frank, your hair was still on the longer side. You had merely only shortened the bangs to get them out of your face. And to remove the soaked scent of blood...

"That's not the fucking point!" He retaliated and crushed the purple strands. Then he let go of the shirt's collar and grabbed your face next. You didn't dare pull away.

"You touch a pair of scissors again and you'll be **eating** them too. Am I clear on that?" 

It was crazy to say, but even with what he had just done before all of this, the wild look in his eyes now still beat the one from earlier. For some strange reason, you had crossed a line that couldn't be understood by anyone except him.

"Yes." You answered without a fight.

He released you and exited the room, still clinging onto the purple hair you had sheered off.

* * *

 

With how submissive you've become to Peter's actions, wallowing in guilt over the children killed would do nothing in your benefit. After several days of pathetically asking yourself how such young innocent lives could be destroyed, all shame and regret began to stale in your conscience, and little by little, it entombed within the deepest parts of your mind and was cemented by a forced ignorance.

And the obtuse life for you went on.

During these passed few days you did the only thing that came to mind when someone who was "close" to you in some sort of way performed actions that had greatly upset or disturbed you; a small silent treatment was given. Without kidding yourself, you knew this was downright nonsensical—laughable. Especially in his eyes. 

Forty-eight hours after the festival slaying, you still had a couple more tears left in your system. They didn't fall all at once. Just a drop here and there. The last time it happened Peter had gotten close to your face and his eyes became oddly soft.

"Aww, Puppet...Please don't cry." He asked in an anomalous, crooning voice. It was very much out of his character, and it convinced you to lower your guard.

"You're so hideous when you cry." He finished with a sizzling, carnivorous grin. If he were an animation his teeth would've been pointed sharp and probably accompanied with a slithering tongue. 

Your mind imagined this when you immediately realized your first instinct with his ideas were unfortunately correct; he wouldn't be showing empathy. Only mockery. 

Today, the rest of the suffocating skin of grief was finally shed. However, the crack in your sanity had been severely widened, exposing the core of your thought process with just about everything. It was close to spilling out like yolk from a broken egg, but there was enough support left to keep things together and running normally. Barely.

The pizzeria was unpalatably packed today, but what was one to expect on a Saturday? You did well to stay away from Him, knowing the cycle of his horrid temper would reset today and be at its worst. You took more than the appropriate amount of bathroom breaks just to have an excuse to avoid the overly excited kids and the short-tempered adults.

The small game of cat and mouse with Peter was inevitable, and whenever he came out of his office and walked over to a certain part of the restaurant, you followed up by moving to the opposite area. This time you ended up near Pirate Cove and played the waiting game that was getting very old. You bided time, waiting for him to disappear again when you saw several people, who definitely weren't an eager family, come through the exits. There were four of them, and they were all in uniform—law enforcement uniform.

A nail drove through your chest as shockwaves of panic had you in paralysis. You were a deer in headlights as your negative fantasies expected the policemen to immediately turn their gazes and recognize you as the missing teen. 

 _They weren't here for_ you _, but you could still get caught up in this..._ Your mind refocused on the actions you needed to be doing; you needed to disappear, but hiding in The Room was impossible without showing yourself. Plus it was locked, anyway.

_So where else was there to run?_

The decision was made when you noticed Foxy had just finished the final note of his song and the curtains to Pirate Cove were closing. Without thinking much into it, you leapt onto his stage and were swallowed up by the star-sprinkled curtains along with Foxy. Behind them was a dark but quiet space of serenity.

Everything now was a guessing game.

Peter would obviously see these guys and most likely be in the same panic boat. Luckily you were one step ahead of this and found a hiding spot.

The horrible impulse to peek out and glimpse at what was going on was unbearable, but it was too much of a risk.

You took long breaths, but your body was too shaky to calm down in the slightest. Because... _you were on a timer._ Foxy's curtains would only stay closed for around seven to ten minutes before opening again, revealing where you were. You desperately tried pushing your mind for a plan B when your back lightly brushed against something metallic. You swung around, facing the fox.

As crazy as it was, you had nearly forgotten he was here. His hook made contact when you were involuntarily moving backwards. So suddenly the inside of Pirate Cove began to feel very hot...

Foxy's eye wasn't closed all the way. It was half open in vapidness, his mouth slack-jawed. For a moment your worry shifted onto the fox. In your mind, Foxy's expression was that of an angry person's. He was staring you down, feeling violated by your audacity to trespass and invade his personal space...The light deep within his eye was glowing, like a burning wick of fury. You gazed at his hook again. The built-in "weapon" flashed its warning.

_The animatronic wanted you to leave **now** , to get the fuck off his stage and to not ever come back. _

Everything about him screamed unwelcoming. His gold-painted fangs glimmered and the trapped air grew musky and pungent, almost like a dog's breath. You nearly took a step back and actually thought about the possible suicide mission to find another spot to stash yourself away.

An airy whisper manifested from the unknown, and you believed it was entirely real:

_"Escape...now..."_

You felt around and maneuvered backward as you tried to grab a hold of the curtains, heeding the warning. You whirled back around and risked everything to peer out of the soft, starry drapes.

Almost all the adults were gazing over at the entrance while the kids kept running around, oblivious. In a miraculous bravery, you finally jumped out, landing back on the ground that made you visible to anyone. An even more dauntless nerve had you glancing over back at the entrances.

The officers were still there and conversing with each other while Peter stood near them with great dismay, arms folded and donning an expression of profound aggravation. His head turned barely and his dark eyes locked onto your image.

It was possibly the first time ever seeing a grain of fear on the man's face. Or in his eyes for that matter. They had widened ever so slightly when seeing you were out in the open, and as if a form of telepathy was being used, you read his silent orders and bolted for the corner of Pirate Cove, now invisible to the restaurant exits. From there you casually maneuvered closer to the stage (that was thankfully shut off by its own curtains) and snuck in.

"Sorry guys..." You told the slumped animatronics, who were no where near as scary as Foxy.

The main stage was on a timer as well, but it also had back curtains that were available for concealing yourself.

_Perfect._

The band played for a total of three times while you waited with weak, stiff knees. Ironically the toolroom door was right _there_ , but locked, leaving you to wait awkwardly while your breath shortened and became uncomfortable due to the curtains smothering the fresh air.

 _God, when is it gonna fucking end.._. Your mind was going mad with these insane actions until there was the sound of someone leaping up onto the stage in-between the next show. Fear rose again and your breathing came in and out through your mouth.

"Alright. You can come out now, pumkin. Big bad men are gone." Peter's voice relieved you.

"Yeah. And I could've not hid at all and let one of them talk to me and find out my identity and shit." You countered while coming out from the curtain coverage.

There was a quality of uncanny tranquility on his face, masklike. But when noticing how his mouth sat, the revelation of discomposure was found.

 _So he may have made that joke to calm_ himself _down._

"Anyway..." He flicked the ugly truth away and jumped to another topic. There was no need to explain who the men exactly were and why they had paid a visit.

"We're closing early for the day here in a few hours. And I have plans for you later tonight..." He explained before turning around and pulling at his own long bangs in utter frustration and stress.

"I was hoping it wouldn't ever have to come to this..." He muttered.

"Come to what?"

"Nothing. You'll find out tonight, like I said. Just get back out there." He responded and leapt off the stage after parting the curtains, coldly ignoring every child who asked him how he was able to see the band when they weren't playing.


	26. Candy's

"So what is it?" You asked after the day ended with everyone gone. The air was still thick with nervous tension on what had taken fold earlier. The policemen...

"Soo..." He started slowly as he stacked a number of papers on his desk. His verbal delay was a light reveal on how he wasn't pleased with the topic but knew it had to be done, along with the actions that came with.

"After giving it such long and careful thought...I've decided to relocate you for the night. Just for a few hours until the fuzz's radar for the evening dies down." He finally shared while putting the office work away.

"What? Relocate?!"

"Like I said, just for a few hours. So don't get your knickers in a knot. However...it'll be happening a few nights a week." 

" _Why_??"

"Because from what I've been told, police are gonna have a habit of checking this place after dark constantly. Apparently one of those girls from that lil fiesta a few days back was related to the mayor of this city..."

Peter's mouth melted to a glower, possibly angry with himself for not being careful on who his victims were, causing him to pick a target whose worth was gold compared to other children's bronze. Because of this extra special child, law enforcement would be working more than twice as hard to crack the case.

"So yeah... I'm gonna move you around a bit. Starting tonight." He finished.

"Where am I gonna go?"

"Candy's." He replied and stood up.

 _Candy's?!?!_ Your mind shook in bewilderment.

_These restaurants were connected??_

"How am I—"

"Have a younger cousin who runs it. If you recall the day you asked me about the guy who helped with the spring lock failure incident..." 

_The man in green._

"That was your _cousin_?" 

"Yeah. His name is Victor. Now enough of these dumb questions. Let's just get this shit over with." 

* * *

 

This new routine was awkward. Riding in Peter's car was even more awkward. You had pressed yourself hard into the leathery cushions of the seats out of tenseness. The aroma and musk was dark and spicy, much like the vehicle's owner.

Although it was strange, leaving the car upon arrival was a whole new experience in itself, and both your legs felt exceptionally weak when making the walk inside Candy's vibrant doors. Last time you had entered this place you were your own free person.

 _Freedom...what_ was _freedom now?_

"I gotta warn ya, some people say he's a lot like me. Then again, some say he isn't...and some say it's both. I'll let **you** decipher." Peter said with a grin as the two of you walked in.

The new atmosphere was a fresh layer of pressure on your shoulders. The man you caught a glimpse of a while back was standing a few meters away by the kitchen. His green apparel resembled Peter's, though its style slightly differed. His hair was long and tied in the back, as well. When his eyes migrated over, you could now understand what Peter had meant. Then Victor smiled, completing the strikingly similar features he shared with his purple parallel.

_And it was about to get weirder..._

"Is that the clown I ordered?" His voice was also alike with Peter's, but had its own version of depth and rasp. His first words to you were anything but respectful, and they wouldn't be easily brushed off.

"Fuck you." You boldly retorted without discipline.

Amazingly, no offense was taken, as if the vulgar insult was never thrown. He kept his grin on tight while his eyes traveled over to Peter.

"Everything done here?" The older asked.

"Just about. Got two boneheads finishing the bathrooms but it'll be complete real shortly." Victor answered. This information wasn't very pleasing, given by how Peter gave him a familiar look.

"Oh relax. They're typical junkies with the memory of a fruit fly. Only thing on their mind right now is getting their next hit asap. You oughtta know with how your **own** team is." Victor stated.

"No. Not really. I have higher standards with hiring people, Victor." Peter replied, rebuking. It finally made the man in green lose his grin.

"Trust me, they won't recognize him. Or care." Victor defended, and that's when it became evident; they were talking about you.

The mask was back at Fazbear's, which left your face uncovered for anyone to see. Peter clearly expected Candy's to be free of any employees by this time, making his new frustration understandable.

"If it's that important to you then just send him to one of the dining areas. No one's gonna be going in _there_." Victor said.

 _I'll go there myself if I so please._  Your mind fancied to convert this into actual words as you were more than just a little hesitant on obeying someone who wasn't Peter, but the man himself averted his gaze from Victor and met yours, eyes sharp. It's exactly what he wanted you to do—he didn't need to verbally say it. 

Rolling your eyes, you grumbled and left the two, replacing your surroundings with Candy's stage area, where the lights were off and the two animatronic cats resided.

"Obedient one, he is." Victor's remark on the way had been heard, and it took almost all your will power to not retaliate.


	27. Victor

"Looks like the little shits managed to pull one of Blank's eyes out. Ain't that a sunnovuhbich?" Victor shared the "terrible" info and casually popped a cigarette in his mouth before lighting.

_Smoking indoors. How classy._

You weren't one to just throw out judgement, but Victor's sordid attitude proved himself to be grimy. He deserved no slack.

"Don't ya think you might set off the fire alarm if you do that?" You asked. In all honesty you could care less if the fire alarms were activated. Hell, you'd love for there to be that much excitement going on, but you had to find some excuse to call him out. You were a smoker yourself—though hadn't done it in a long time, thanks to Peter—but no one liked second-hand.

"Heh. Please. The kitchen could catch on fire and those alarms wouldn't even make so much as a giggle." He said and took another inhale. 

 _A kid's restaurant with faulty fire alarms. Awesome._ You thought, still not remotely comfortable with his huffing.

_So move away!_

You carelessly got up and headed for the further party tables.

"Y'know, coming from Fazbear, I figured you'd look a little more impressive." He commented. There was a distasteful entitlement to his voice, like he had every right to just randomly judge every inch of you.

"What the hell are you meaning by _that_?" You locked stares with him, not understanding how coming from Freddy's was supposed to make you impressive in some way.

Victor was silent for some time. First noticeable movement seen was his left eyebrow when it rose. In turn, _you_ also found something compelling. There was a new pungent smell to him that you were sure wasn't there before. Your first guess was he'd been around cleaning materials, as that's what it reminded you of; strong cleansing products.

When zeroing in on his features you could see a physical difference. Even from a distance you saw how dilated his pupils were along with the dark circles around his eyes. _They certainly didn't look like this a half hour ago_. Your temper shifted to perturbing when noticing these strange new details on the gangly man.

"Hm. Never mind. Forget I even said that." He pulled back, flashing a toothy grin. All it took was that short second of him showing his teeth to expose their unpleasant condition. They were a yellow tint in color, and not from poor hygiene. Something else was giving them the stomach-churning shade.

Your face curled back with disgust yet concern, wondering what the hell this man did to himself. It looked like something parasitic was sucking the life right out of him. His (irritated) eyes closed as he took another deep hit of his smoke. You watched the heavy cloud swell out in a massive, toxic billow, and an evoked, importunate nerve in you screamed out. 

 _Were you going to_?

You took a step toward Victor.

 _You weren't_ that _desperate, were you_? But unfortunately yes, you were. There was a five-second pause in-between each step, but you never turned back. Victor's glazed eyes slid smoothly without blinking, catching you in their sights. He gave no reaction just yet. His brow rose again.

"Uh..." It felt like you had lost all social skills when asking him for a smoke. It was too damn awkward.

"You mind sharing one of those?"

Normally one would say 'please' upon such a request (or any for that matter), but you couldn't for the life of you find the word in your vocabulary.

He lowered the cigarette away from his mouth. He didn't blow out the smoke this time, causing the fumes to use his nostrils as means of escape. His eyes still didn't blink, which was beginning to look creepy. He must've been pondering on his decision. Deep down you hoped he'd just whip out the pack and offer. A slight curl formed from the corner of his lips.

"These guys don't come cheap, you know." He said.

"Yeah? I know that..." You said back, not sure where he was trying to go with this, but had a hunch he was about to refuse by using expense as an excuse.

"So am I gonna get anything in return?" 

"What, you wanting me to pay you back?" 

"Well, clearly." 

How in the world were you going to pay him back when you had no cash to do so?

"You're the one with a job, bruh, not me." You said, finding it stupid that he expected you to fork over money.

"Fuck it..." You turned away and proceeded to head towards the dining area.

"That's adorable. You think I was meaning money." He threw out while you were on your way.

"What? Then what the hell are you mean—" You halted.

 _Oh, hell no...he couldn't be serious_...

You felt beyond disgusted after the realization of what this guy was hinting at.

"You're fucking sick." You told him, still finding it appalling that he was expecting you to comply like it was some normal trade.

"Then you must not want the cigarette that badly." He snickered.

"Your 'deal' is hilarious considering how I wasn't impressive enough five seconds ago. And yeah, you're right. I DON'T want it that badly." You said.

"D'aww, did I say that?" He mocked, tapping his cancer stick and carelessly letting ash powder the floor below him like grey flurries.

If more had been known about Victor and his "deals", you would've understood how he was so comfortable in making them with no shame. Throughout his work career he'd have countless employees approach him for many things, whether it was wanting extra hours, keeping themselves from being fired, or even drugs. In the end it was all about  **him** and what **he** wanted. There was no care or empathy. _It was about selfishness and power_.

"Fag."

You would've kicked your own ass for saying this word. For several reasons; one being that it made you hypocritical after becoming so receptive to Peter, but that wasn't the biggest issue. The real issue is that you swore to never use such a word on someone—you wouldn't be that kind of ignorant person.

This would be the third time Victor made you go against your morals. All in less than an hour.

"Bite your tongue, Puppet, those words can be hurtful." He replied, grinning.

"What about something a little...stronger?" You heard him say before you could leave the whole conversation behind and ditch your craving.

Catching morbid curiosity, you made the choice of looking back at him, but still displayed an expression of repulsion.

He had pulled something reflective out of his pocket. Not wanting to be within close distance again, you did your best in identifying the object from several feet away. It wasn't made of metal, but appeared glassy. _It_ was _glass_. And it was long.

A pipe. 

A glass pipe.

_Fuck no!_

Upon realizing this guy had serious drugs on him, you now understood why his appearance had changed so fast and why he had a strange musk. He had disappeared somewhere to smoke and get high. His face became irritated from it; typical with poisonous substances. 

"Are you fucking serious?" You questioned, tearing away the last scrap of respect there was for him. Never before did you think you'd see someone so low in little time.

 _Some piece of work he was_...

"What? Nicotine the only thing you'll go for? For a young adult you're such a little kid..." Victor replied.

"If I change my mind on slowly dying, I'll hit you up." You said and started walking away, refusing anymore conversations with him.

"You're already dead, Puppet." He retorted eerily, and it almost made you stop.

You kept your pace until entering the room holding Candy and Cindy's stage. Your body then released the shiver built up.

 _"You're already dead, Puppet_."

Victor had sounded like Peter then. It's something Peter would say (though he never has before), not to mention Victor's voice reached a pitch that mimicked his cousin's.

Now what exactly, you wondered, did the meth-head mean by it?

 _Doesn't matter._ Peter was the one who had control over you, not Victor.

Did he even know Victor was taking drugs?

You wanted to assume he wouldn't care, but there was evidence against this. If Victor fucks himself up, then Candy's could go to shits, making Peter have to deal with it. However, Victor _did_ seem to know what he was doing when running this place, and so Peter may not give a fuck on what his cousin did here so long as things were running right.

 _But how would Peter feel about Victor's little 'favor' he tried getting you to do??_ Now **this** was a question worth thinking about.

If there was anything evident about Peter's relationship with you, it was that you were _his_ possession. He only sent you to this ridiculous burger place because of the open investigation going on with the "missing" kids. It was all for hiding. In no way would he be okay with Victor trying to get friendly, would he?


	28. Ghost

You were staring at the dining area from the stage. Every light was off, but your vision was able to reach out to the nearest table. The yellow Fredbear happened to be joining, but was facing you. No one occupied the inside. He was basically in his vintage animatronic mode, but the eyes were absent from his face. It was pitch black in the crevasses where eyes should've been.

The empty sockets gave off the infamous vibe of something terrible residing within them, like a monstrous creature in a cave. The Fredbear suddenly collapsed onto the stage floor, as if every limb in its body gave up. No sound had even been made when tumbling to its new resting point. Its arms laid out lazily and its mouth was slack-jawed. The newest details it sported were tiny white pupils the size of needle points in its sockets. The dark, airy void inside had molded into solidness, giving itself its own pair of eyes—

You tossed on the mattress and finally awoke. Your entire upper body was itchy with sweat, the shirt's material irritating your skin. You sat up and aggressively pulled it off, throwing it to the cold floor.

Now exposed to cooler conditions, you immediately began feeling better, pulse and skin calming.

 _That was the last time you slept wearing one of those shirts..._ You silently griped.

_And what kind of fucked up dream was THAT?!_

You nearly shivered when remembering the eyes of the Fazbear suit, as if it wasn't freaky enough. This dream spawned a twinge of uneasiness, making you scan The Room just to assure yourself nothing was inside. Your innards jumped and the sweat fest almost returned when noticing the amount of light spilling through the door, revealing it unsecured. 

 _Well that was certainly out of the ordinary!_ Especially when remembering Peter had for sure locked it before you even passed out. He  **always** did.

With sleep not returning any time soon, you chose the second option; appeasing the building curiosity by investigating. Everything was cleaned up and ready for the next morning, but...not all seemed right. First your door was left open, now there were lights—normally off at this time—illuminating areas of the restaurant. 

_Where was Peter?_

He wouldn't make a great mistake of leaving you free to roam without him.

You walked by the furthest set of tables and headed to the opposite hallway where the offices resided, and stopped immediately upon hearing a weird sound coming from Peter's...

Breathing noises?

The door to his office was ajar. Staying mostly hidden, you pushed it open a bit more, just enough to see inside. He was in a relaxed position on his chair, completely _asleep!_

This was a first; the man was actually sleeping!

On his desk were new hire packets along with a half-filled coffee mug. There was the idea of waking him up, but after giving it another thought it was decided such action wouldn't be smart. For all you knew he could panic and attack out of confusion. His hand wrapping around your throat again played out in your head, encouraging you to just leave him to his abnormal slumber.

The sight of a few untidy tables caught your attention when returning to the dining area. Some of the party hats were thrown askew with several others laying on the floor. Out of instinct (but mostly boredom), you went to assist, straightening them out.

The last party hat was picked up, but you never set it down. Your blood ran cold after coming to a sudden realization; all of them had been set up perfectly several minutes ago before you had gone into Peter's office _._  

Your eyes darted everywhere before your head eventually followed.

There had to be some logical explanation... Perhaps the air conditioning blew them off?

 _No._..that wouldn't be possible. If that were true then this would be a reoccurring thing, and the gust wasn't strong enough to knock over the hats. Not to mention...the A.C wasn't even **on**. Though it may as well have been, the entire surrounding area became icy cold.

Bulbs above the main stage flickered, as if they were dying. Then it was lights out, nearly blackening everything. Your heart jumped to your throat and you took a step back, trying to keep calm.

 _Maybe this was just another morbid trick from Peter_. Maybe he had woken up and saw another chance to toy with you again. 

You stood your ground and retracted the fear, adamant on not falling for one of the man's pranks again. But all courage tumbled when you saw what was unfolding in front of the stage curtains.

At first it seemed like they were opening, but that was far from the truth. On both ends of the stage were what appeared to be a black, flickering cloud, slightly resembling the twinkling masses of static on T.V screens.

You blinked hard, hoping it was just some trick of the drowsy eye. The two masses moved closer to each other and made contact, forming one large, fluttering heap. Eventually it solidified and no longer flared or blinked and was now just a shadowy, shapeless form. It lacked any light or shade of its own. It was darker than the shadows behind it.

Then it changed shape again, becoming more skinny. Four "limbs" grew from the center, and then...ears. Bunny-like ears. It looked more and more familiar with the final touches being two white lights on the "head" and several bone-like objects appearing not far under the eyes.

Teeth.

This thing had a mouth and was smiling!

_Bonnie?_

What you were staring at appeared to be some form of Bonnie, but this defied all logic. It couldn't have been real! Was this...some kind of _ghost_? You never believed in those things and always thought it was all nonsense. Ghost weren't real!

_But what was this thing in front of you?!_

Didn't matter. Whatever it was, it was certainly real and drove a stake through your composure.

 _"They come alive at night!"_ The voice of Kayla's friend, Cady, barged into your mind.

_Were the rumors true this whole time?!_

Your panicked brain dove into all the horrible fantasies kids made up of this place over the years. Your inner helpless, scared child was slowly dragged out as the thing started moving forward, gliding off the stage. A whimper you wouldn't be proud of later escaped from the depths of your lungs, and you continued to move backward, unable to take your stare off the empty, hollow lights it had for eyes.

Every light in the dining area (including the arcade machines, even) went out, leaving only the supernatural ones emitting from the Bonnie ghost. Within seconds they grew larger.

The thing had taken charge at you.

There was absolutely no sound, but you felt an icy gust. If there was any comparison it would be like a refrigerator blowing air at someone. Instantly falling to the floor, you put both hands over your face in instinctive defense, yelling out in absolute terror.

There was a noise of an object busting, but it came from afar. The whole thing only lasted for a fleet moment, then brightness through your closed lids. You found a shred of courage and opened them, revealing all the lights to be back on. Despite cold skin and goosebumps, the once freezing air was at normal room temperature.

You stayed there on your side for a short time before scrambling. You stood, body quivering. You had almost jumped at the sight of Peter, who was near the office hallway...and very much awake. It was another rare moment of seeing him in a state of disarray. He looked muddled, his hair slightly messy. His breathing was heavy but slowed greatly when realizing what he was staring at.

His glimmering, watchful eyes fell into a narrow with hints of exasperation before the silence was finally broken. 

"The fuck are you doing??" His voice was still hoarse from sleep. You glanced back at the stage area again, but there was no proof of anything being around or on it. Everything was calm and collective.

 _As if nothing had even happened_...But that wasn't true! Something paranormal took place! You desperately gathered your words to explain this without sounding jumbled and completely mad.

"There was...something by the stage! It was like...A ghost or something..."

Your gaze switched back to Him. He didn't move an inch. He didn't even blink while staring, trying to let the crazy explanation sink in. He didn't need much time to regather the mask of his dark, unsettling persona that had been temporarily shattered when waking up and running out here, making him lose a small ounce of his dignity, though he would surely regain it just as fast.

His eyes flickered, and you saw a very faint sight of his white teeth through his cracked mouth, but it wasn't from a smile this time; he was mildly frowning. He took his hand off the wall he had been leaning on and began the walk back to his office.

"Christ...I get enough of that shit from the kids that come in everyday, even the employees. Don't you dare start it too. You were obviously just seeing shit. Go back to the room." He grumbled. This sent a sudden fire of anger within you.

"I did  **not**   _hallucinate_ this!"

Perhaps it was the memory of the drug trip you were forced to experience some time ago that gave a reason to be more angry than you wished. It was a time when you  _had_ hallucinated, but not this time. Everything you saw minutes ago had truly happened. You were sure of it. There was no way your mind could've just created this against its own will, though a part of you, the size of a single cell, knew it very well could've.

Be that as it may, the crescendo of your voice didn't even scratch his nerve. He kept progressing, as if a single word hadn't been said the entire time.

"I would've seen everything on camera. There was nothing, **[First Na—]**...Puppet."

He jerked his head lightly, possibly scolding himself mentally for letting part of your real name slip out. Even _you_ were caught off guard by this. It was enough to where you instantly dismissed your anger. It instead transformed into another emotion that was close to childish; the feeling of not wanting to be alone.

Your breath was shaky and you commanded your weak body to sprint, catching up to him, but not without stumbling and falling to your knees before reaching.

He glanced back with a vexed glare, most likely disturbed by your strange behavior, but his frustration at the whole situation, mixed with the inconvenience of falling asleep and not getting work done, overpowered it. Any concern he might've had moments ago was gone by the time he re-entered his office. Surprisingly, he accepted your presence when you followed him in. For the moment. 

The breaking sound from earlier was now discovered; his coffee mug was on the floor, shattered. You put two and two together and realized he jumped awake from your wail and unintentionally knocked it over as he scrambled.

 _So now he's lost_ two _so far._ Your mind pointed out. The little kid fears flushed away as you hid a smirk from Peter's plague with losing mugs.

He let out a grumble, no doubt he too was looking at the mess that now mottled his floor, but wasn't thinking it was super funny like you were.

"Go **back** , Puppet..." He ordered again in a forced calm voice. You immediately obeyed, slipping out of the office and heading back to the room you came from.

It didn't take too long for your own mask of nerves to rebuild themselves, either. After just about fifteen minutes you convinced yourself it all was a hallucination. But those empty white orbs for eyes constantly burned in the back of your mind for the rest of the night.


	29. Diet

In the beginning the problem hadn't really been noticed, not until now; when you were finally becoming aware of just how much your body was negatively changing—slowly weakening. Slow enough to where it was practically invisible to your attention and crept up. It all felt compellingly similar to an illness, only thing missing was a high fever. Your body shook most of the time like it was desperately trying to warm itself in freezing conditions.

The area around your eyes were always in some kind of pain, hot and achy. Your entire body, especially head, seemed to have a phantom of high temperature, and at times it was paired with a dull headache. Only thing that seemed to help was splashing yourself with cold water. The placebo felt wonderful but the sweet relief was only temporary. After giving it five to ten minutes each time, everything would be back to miserable. The most recent effects you suffered was the horrid dizziness and blurred vision and terrible nausea.

All this would mostly happen after you were given a "meal", and would worsen when interacting with the guests. Every now and then you'd lose balance and feel drained, having no choice but to halt and catch your breath.

For a while it was put off to the side so you could properly focus on the day's tasks, and by night you'd all but forget and merely sleep. However, today wouldn't be a day where you could ignore it. It was the worst you've felt. You had doused your face with cold water before slipping on the puppet mask. As predicted it did the job, but by the time the first few guests began to show up and set their birthday party together, the aches and pains returned with rancor.

In and out of the bathroom you cycled, cooling your wrists and face with water you wished could get more frigid than what the faucets offered. Your awareness didn't catch how bad you were physically shaking until you reached out to shut off the restroom sink. You watched chills dance over your fingers and palm for close to a minute before pulling back. You leaned against the wall, finally making the time to think about your situation.

_Or "crisis"._

Water dripped and seeped from the bottom of your mask, the droplets settling into the shirt's collar. The answer you had been seeking out for so long was common sense, and you almost beat your own face in for being so stupid about it. However, your current condition was an appropriate excuse for not having a clear mind.

The last time you've eaten normal food was... _months_. Peter's only been feeding you junk that consisted of artificial flavorings and sugar and loooads of grease _._ It all lost its appeal ages ago and made you gag when consuming it. But it's all there was.

This was a deplorable "diet" and things couldn't go on much longer without proper nutrition.

So you found a diagnosis and it most certainly had to be brought up to Him, but it was evident he wouldn't be seen until sometime later today. You could pull through until then, couldn't you? As long as everything was taken easy...

You coerced yourself and exited the restroom, despite feeling unnaturally weaker compared to the last several days. It looked like you were limping as you dragged a hand along the wall. You were practically a zombie, ignoring concerned stares from several guests. By some miracle the A.C above kicked on, and the divine breeze of cold air put an end to over half the necrosis feeling, allowing you to straighten out your posture and look alive.

"Hey, Pup! Come jump up on my back! The birthday boy wants to see a funny pose!" You heard Zan, who wasn't in a suit today, yell enthusiastically over. Seconds ago you would've refused.

You glanced at the adults near him. Some were looking avid on seeing a silly performance, but there were also a few whose looks of worry hadn't changed from when they were staring at you minutes ago. 

"I gotcha!" You agreed to the goofy idea, pushing into a hard run and finishing off with a leap of faith. When landing, he curled his own arms over yours to keep hold, noticing that he was doing most of the effort when becoming aware of how much your body was shaking.

"Take the picture, daddy!" A kid—presumed to be the birthday brat—shrieked, and his father obeyed. He would be lucky enough to get a picture of silliness before every muscle was screaming at you.

"Stop." You winced.

"What?"

"Let **GO**!" You nearly yelled, practically begging, and he did so without another question.

The intention was to slip off without casualty, but your arms had given out, causing you to collapse flat onto your back. It conjured a bad cough to escape, followed by several groans. The children, who witnessed the entire thing, thought the fall was part of the act, or maybe just a harmless but still funny mishap. 

Zan himself figured you were acting over dramatic for the sake of carrying on the joke, until he turned to get a better look. Upon seeing how your condition was no laughing matter, all humor left his face.

"Hey, Pup...you okay?"

"No." You answered with no voice, making the response come out as a huff whisper.

He immediately held out his hand.

"C'mon."

The best you could do was take his hand, but you couldn't physically pull yourself up, even with his help. He resorted to lifting you by himself, though the job didn't end there. Problems kept stacking when learning that even  _standing_ was too much. Blacking out on the floor didn't seem like such a terrible idea suddenly.

"Are you sick or something?" He asked what was already so apparent. He skipped out on waiting for an answer you most likely wouldn't have provided.

"Where we heading?" You were helpless in walking correctly, but still planned on protesting if it was to somewhere you weren't okay with, such as Peter's office. No matter the day, Peter did not tolerate being bothered when he was in there. 

There need not be a decision to bother him; the man had just emerged, most likely due to seeing the two of you from his video feed.

"He's sick I think..." Zan explained himself before Peter could demand to know what the hell was going on. He turned his stark gaze to you _,_ making it  _your_ turn to speak.

"He ain't lying..." You groaned.

"Give him to me..." He ordered and Zan let go, but stayed prepared in case you were going to faint or lose balance.

Peter grabbed hold of your arm, not being as gentle as Zan.

"Maybe we should send him home..." Zan suggested.

"Just go back to your spot! I'll handle this." Peter ordered. Zan was tentative but obeyed. With several more perturbed eyes beaming your way, it would be impossible for Peter to pull you back to The Room. So he was forced to take things into his office. When slipping in, he slammed the door shut and turned to you, his aggravation on fire, like it was **your** fault you were feeling terrible.

 _It_ wasn't _your fault!_

If anything it was HIS.

"What's the fucking problem?!" He growled.

You pulled the mask away and tossed it aside, revealing dark circles under your eyes. This would be a first in surprising half his anger out of him. His sharp eyes widened ever so slightly. It didn't necessarily _scare_ him, but he wasn't expecting this at all, and it disturbed him more than anything.

" **This** is." You told him in simple words.

"The hell's wrong with you?" He asked, angry tone not as powerful. Your teeth bared in frustration. How could He be so clever and smart yet stupid? Was it not obvious?? 

"Are you serious? I'm malnourished!" You yelled at him. And you were correct; It was the reason why amounts of health were being lost every day, why you were failing to catch yourself when jumping off something, such as the stage or tables, why balance was being faulty even when you were normally on top with reflexes. Greasy pizza and soda had almost no nutrition in them.

"Were you really thinking you could feed me a Fazbear diet and have me be okay? I'm not!"

If anything angered you more it was dealing with this problem at the last minute. You wished you would've payed attention to the first signs more clearly in the past, maybe _then_ you wouldn't be in a weak pathetic pile slumped in Peter's chair, feeling nauseous.

"You want me around still? Put me on real food."

The next thirty seconds were strange ones. Peter's reflective eyes were locked onto yours to where you could almost see yourself. He was lost in introspection. In truth he knew well about this problem before it even began. He knew feeding someone a poor diet would lead to malnutrition and illness, but had decided to stick with his fantasy of feeding his precious prisoner Fazbear food.

What was more surprising was that in no way was he _trying_ to cause harm by doing this. There was just something about it that fed his power over you, fed his desires in turning you into something that wasn't possible—the desire of turning you into a living, breathing character. This fantasy was obvious, but you didn't know how far it reached in his mind. Now the reality was smacking him back in the face with consequences, and he had no one but himself to blame.

He self-admitted it was his own doing. There would be no making you into some fictional being that matched his fantasy, not the one he envisioned, anyway.

He tore his eyes away and let out a deep, frustrated sigh. He looked back at you once more before opening the door and leaving the office. Not a word was said from him during that time. There was no telling what he was up to exactly, but you were convinced he took the hint on you needing some kind of action taken asap. Within minutes, he returned with a large bottle of water and pushed it into your chest almost **too** hard.

"Then start with this." He said, signaling that he gave in to your important needs.


	30. Pick

An employee who wasn't Zan hanging around after closing was foreign. What was even more unfamiliar was how they approached and tried handing a piece of paper with little writing on it to you.

"What is this?" You'd ask before considering the passed-along object.

"My resignation. Give it to Peter." The young man explained.

So he was quitting?

"Why?" 

"Just moving on. And it's no big loss since there's plenty of us, anyway. I'm quite sick of kids and this environment altogether. Messes with the psyche after a while. Dig?"

 _Tell me about it,_  you thought.

"Besides, he likes you more. No use trying to hide or lie about it. It's stupidly obvious to everyone." He added, using the example of Peter's higher "tolerance" with you as means of justification to do his dirty work.

" _You_ give it to him. It's YOUR position you're abandoning." You refused after this but had already foolishly held onto the letter before hearing his reasonings.

"Fine, don't then. Doesn't change the fact that I'm never stepping foot in this place again after this." He said whilst shrugging and moving away, heading for the exits.

"Have a good life, dude. Stay human. Don't be a puppet forever." He said before throwing up a quick peace sign.

"And for fuck's sake, take off that horrible mask once in a while..." He threw out one last thing and finally descended into the parking lot, leaving Fazbear's Entertainment for good.

With an excuse to visit Peter's office without fraying his nerves, you boldly took a few steps in while he sat at his desk and jotted unknown things down on his own paper.

"One of the wannabe-hippies here told me to give you this..." You eventually said. Even with a reason to be in this private room, there would always be a layer of caution sprinkled with hints of fear.

"Toss it." His low voice commanded shortly after.

 _Did he even know what it was?_ You wondered, but guessed he had a clue given by how he could see everything on his monitors. That or he sensed the departure of his employee a while back.

Not wanting to deal with a situation that wasn't your problem, there was no hesitation in dropping the letter into the nearby wastebasket, but as soon as you turned around, you were pulled back into a situation that  _would_ be a problem.

"By the way..." His voiced stopped every muscle from advancing out the office.

"Was cleaning my tools the other day. Couldn't help but notice...one of my lock-picks has gone missing." He said with absolute composure without moving from his desk.

You felt incredibly hot with red pokers piercing your skin. You almost instantly began sweating, until reminding yourself that the missing pick was in a spot barely possible to locate.

_But not **im** possible..._

"Yeah?" You responded with a tone of utter ignorance, slowing your panicked breaths.

" _You_ wouldn't happen to know where it went... would you?" He then asked. This time he had finally moved, turning around by just a few inches and casting a pair of eyes that looked worse than staring at oncoming headlights in a dark tunnel.

Thank God the mask was veiling your face at this very moment...

"No idea." You answered a bit too fast.

Peter had yet to even blink.

"Take that thing off and tell me again." He ordered next, and you felt a twinge of nausea.

You put a hand on the mask and slowly began to slide it downwards, taking the artificial face with it.

 _Just tell him it hasn't been seen. It's no different than lying to a teacher. A parent even._  But there was damned world of difference...no interrogation could compare.

All nervousness was breathed out and a wall of strength was constructed over your emotions, and for a moment you were calm when answering.

"I haven't seen it, Peter." You said when the puppet face was completely off.

There was a silent moment tenser than what anyone could ever imagine. The only thing moving on the man was his hand when he twirled his pen smoothly through his fingers without ever breaking the horrendous stare.

"What, you think _I_ did it??" You now switched to a defensive mode.

His gaze broke for less than a second when his dark eyes fell to your body, and then jumped back up.

"Do you see me unlocking any doors around here? It was probably the guy that just bailed! If you really think I'M the culprit, then search me! Search that room and its mattress. I promise you it won't be found there!" You defended yourself with technical truth, and it was this truth that armed you with a tone of not only sounding believable, but entirely authentic in your reasonings. It was enough to make Peter stretch a corner of his intimidating glower as if he were flexing the muscles, but he had been convinced by your words.

He promptly turned back around and carried on with what he'd been doing before you ever walked in.

"Get out." He concluded with.


	31. Education

*

"So you may think you're not infected, but viruses can show up in your system as late as months  _after_ sexual activity. The most typical signs are burning pain while urinating and developing blisters on the head of the penis. They tend to cause extreme irritation and itching depending on the virus. As a few examples..."

The teacher went on with the lesson, sparing the class no mercy with extra gruesome details about sexually transmitted diseases in boys and men.

A picture of one flashed on the overhead. No one in class made any verbal sounds to express their shock, but just about everyone, including you, slightly cringed and squinted their eyes. A few other kids even wrinkled their noses in not only disgust, but also light empathy for the poor bastard who had the adversity to be the model in the photo before them of what a severe case of herpes looked like on a male's groin.

You, along with many other guys in the room, squeezed your legs together, struggling to keep yourselves from imagining the oozing sore blisters on the genital area.

"So that's the other big mistake people make when assuming that their body isn't carrying anything else that they picked up from their previous partners; They feel no discomfort and show zero symptoms, even after getting tested. You can only be certain if you get tested every month up to a year. Herpes is only one of many things that can show up on the epidermis. Show of hands; who's ever had a small wart on their finger when they were a kid?"

The teacher went on as you silently prodded your fingers on the desk, mentally digesting the unpleasant information. These scare tactics were certainly enough for you to keep a distance from the opposite sex, but at the same time, not. Not with raging hormones nearly spilling from your body.

So, no matter what the mind was on, whether it be a lesson, video games, or even what you'll be having for dinner, you would always catch your mind lingering back to the sexual side. Even if you had no idea what to expect from sex itself.

"...But if you think having these warts on your penis was bad, wait 'till you find out where else they can be..." The teacher kept going with a half-cracked smile, seemingly enjoying the fear and disgust being struck into the class.

"Boys, if you are having sex with  _another_ male...I don't think I need to explain where else the virus can conjure up these boils and sores..." The adult raised his brows, knowing the class was well aware of what he was talking about. The give-away was the snickers and snorts. The act of homosexuality was just a laughing stock.

Your eyes rolled at the assclown peers. Being more mature than the average kid your age, you truly didn't see how this was something to laugh at.

 _I bet half of you guys are in the closet._ You growled in your head. Sex was sex, no matter if the consensual partners were of the same gender or not. It was only natural!

After the childish giggling died, a woman, who had been sitting in the back of the class, stepped forward and took her place in the front. It was obvious that she had been waiting for this part of the speech to finalize so she could have her turn. She had a forced exaggerated smile on her red face that almost made you cringe worse than when you were looking at the pictures of diseased genitalia.

"You ALL have a very special gift that you're born with! Do you know what that gift is??" She asked enthusiastically while holding up a gift-wrapped box to act as her symbolic prop. After a few seconds of uninterested silence from the class, she continued.

"It's your _virginity_! You all have this gift!" 

"Not all of us..." A kid next to you muttered just low enough for his peers to hear and not the woman. A weak frown formed on your face when you were reminded that a lot of guys were getting laid, but you had yet to make it to second base with anyone.

"...This gift is very special, and you should ONLY give it away when you marry! It's what makes you pure, and you should never feel pressured to give it away. If you're abstinent, you don't have to worry about the pressure of giving away your virginity!" She rambled on with her talk of some pledge when you heard another student lean in and start whispering:

"With _her_ looks she doesn't need to worry about pressure of sex at all. I bet that box has a 'return to sender' sticker." The teen snickered, and a few others had to cover their mouths and force a straight face.

Although it was harsh, bitterness snapped back to humor, and the immature kid side got the better of you. You were soon amongst the small group of boys who desperately had to choke back their rising laughter. Still having that so-called "gift" of your virginity suddenly didn't seem so bad now.


	32. Check

The first few rounds of real food felt divine, and your body was soon rebuilding itself. 

Peter never looked too happy to bring this food that wasn't Fazbear's, but he saw his great error in keeping you on a bad diet to fuel his fantasies.

" _What's the flavor for today?_ " This was a question you were very close in letting slip after a few days of being fed real nutrition. There was a part of you that wanted to roll around in the defeat of his plan—the same fragment every other person shared within themselves that loved relishing in the you-were-wrong parade.

Fortunately, you kept the snarky, sarcastic questions at bay so they wouldn't be throwing gasoline over a small fire. But self-control was depleting as health came back. With it returned your strength was returning, as well. With said strength it gave the temporary arrogance of thinking you could take on everything. This even included challenging some of the workers here.

You jumped up on stage at one point to give the kids a laugh, and even messed with a couple of the Fazbear crew while they were playing. You noticed some employees would gaze at you in almost disbelief and then look around the building, possibly seeing if Peter was around to put an end to the madness.

Someone with a familiar face had actually approached and attempted to get your attention without letting the guests overhear.

"Hey!"

You instantly shifted your gaze.

 _Beth_. You noticed.

_Ah crap..._

You realized she was about to start tearing into you one way or another.

 _But only if you let her_. 

She looked furious, her eyes flushed with authority. If there was one way to piss her off (technically there were many ways), playing on the stage was one of them.

"Yeessss?" You said facetiously. 

"What are you doing?? Get the hell off there!" She growled under her breath. Her eyes widened and injected a tiny bit of fear into you.

 _But not quite enough._  

You sneered behind the mask, though she obviously didn't see the facial rebellion, but she was about to hear it...

"NnnnnO." 

Her fuming glare loosened into a shock of incredulity. She just may have had the nerve to jump up and grab you herself, but with the guests around she was forced to stay put. She had only one alternative, though it probably wasn't very good.

You could tell by her curling lower lip that she was biting the inside. Her eyes narrowed again and she turned back around, painfully forcing a large smile on her face as she walked passed the dining tables and through the hallway holding Peter's office.

_Meh._

You watched her storm off, though didn't feel threatened by it. You were getting rather bored of being on stage and the curtains were closing now, anyway. Your sights pinned on a new target.

You saw Zan walking around by the tables furthest from the stage. He wasn't wearing the horrible Fazbear suit. You hopped down and maneuvered through the kids and adults and leapt onto the young man's back, surprising him. With how he was, he wasn't upset in the slightest.

"Jeeze, it's like you're some hyper young teenager!" He joked, instantly making you slide off. He left and went to assist another party table, but his words lingered.

_Your immature teen is showing..._

You quickly straightened up and stuck to your higher, mature side. You went back to a birthday table and aided them with handing out presents to the child of honor.

"Jump on the stage again!" The birthday boy told you.

"No, bud... Uhh.. Freddy will get mad." You said.

Although you restrained yourself from doing anything else wild in front of the guests, you still had that horrible urge; the urge for a challenge. 

But what kind of challenge?

You couldn't answer this yourself. You just wanted to... **clash** with something.

You saw Him for the first time today, not counting this morning when he always let you out. He walked to the kitchen and stayed for about a minute and then left, going back to his office. He threw a glare at you on his way.

You smirked at his look meant for keeping you in check. For once it tickled, in a way. You no longer felt threatened by it. Though this didn't mean you wouldn't stay under his rule, but there would be discernible, mild signs of insubordination.

* * *

 

Soon it was only you and Peter, though he was still wrapped up in whatever he was doing in his office. You loitered in the empty dining area, knocking over a party hat or two. You thought about intruding on him until he finally came out and frowned at the sight of you messing with the tables.

"How many complaints can I receive about you in just a single, fucking **day**?" 

Your head picked up, not catching most of it.

"Whut?..." 

"You messing with the stage AND the animatronics?... What the hell where you doing?!" He demanded.

_Why was he so angry over this?_

"Entertaining the guests. My job." You let a smart shot slip, and this time the mask wasn't on to cover your smirk, but you didn't care. He narrowed his eyes to dark slits. Your humor wouldn't be taken so lightly.

"You will stay away from the stage and from other employees. You keep your distance! You are to only interact with the children. That's IT. No one else! There are rules for a reason." He stated firmly before turning his back to you. He (surprisingly) hadn't heard you walk up close behind him.

_Tables turned!_

Your inner fire was strong; It's how you naturally were.

"And if I break them?" You boldly questioned but were unsure of where you were going with this. You just wanted the final word.

He swung his head back, his eyes daggers on yours, glazed with vexed confusion. They tightened again when realizing your intent. His pupils screamed for you to say it again— **daring** you.

_And you weren't in any position to just back down from it._

Your eyes met his with no signs of submission any time soon.

"What if I DO hang around them? And keep messing with things?"

It was barely seen, but his irises seemed to quiver. It sent that tickling feeling in you again.

He was lightning fast with his physical backlash. You had a completely delayed reaction to everything over the next course of seconds. One moment there was giggling on the inside over his look of disbelief, and the next you were making contact with the floor carpet on your back. This didn't exempt you from the pain now hitting like a freight train. The back of his hand and knuckles had struck with tremendous force. It was no ordinary simple back-hand; it felt like a backward punch—harder than any hit you've felt in your life. It was like he destroyed the building of your confidence with one strong strike.

You were seeing literal stars in the back of your watering eyes. The whole left side of your mouth up to the middle stung and throbbed as the busted tissue began swelling up, leaking blood as it made its trickling way over your front teeth and onto the tongue, your tastebuds now being overrun to where it was like you were sucking on copper. It didn't take long to realize your nose had also been affected. 

It wasn't broken but it too wasn't hesitant to start spilling its crimson contents over the side of your face, and at a much heavier and faster rate. The assault didn't end there. Before you could even attempt to push yourself back up, he was upon you and his right fist rammed hard onto your chest, knocking out most your air.

He lightened his pressure but still had you pinned, enough to where you could desperately catch your breath while groaning. He leaned in, his mouth by your ear.

"You're having fun from this, aren't you? Just getting a reeeaal kick outta it..." He started in a low growl. 

"You've pushed your luck too far, Puppet. You're once again forgetting who's in control, and if you continue this pattern I'll have you screeeaamiing. Understand me, Puppet? Do.Not.Test. **ME**!!" He roared with no mercy into your eardrum.

He finally moved off and left you coughing on the floor. You felt the wind of a light object fall next to your head. After opening your blurry eyes you saw a dish towel from the kitchen inches away.

"Clean your face. It's a fucking wreck." He ordered.

It took you a moment but you eventually rolled to your side and were soon on your hands and knees. Your deep breaths didn't end until most your air returned, all the while watching your own blood drip to the carpet like a faulty faucet. Your hand shook as it grabbed the towel and you squeezed your nose for who know's how long until it leaked no more. The towel was practically dyed scarlet by the time you were finished.

At last you made it to your feet, wobbly from shock. All rebellious thoughts were killed and put into a grave. Peter was certainly in a bad mood today.

_Ya think, dumbass?_

You had just been too stubborn to notice all the warning signs. His anger and your crafty boldness were not appropriate mixes. He obviously wasn't shy of laying an assertive smack-down—quite literally—all to end your game of screwing around.

You shifted and jumped back when noticing him standing right there, possibly watching the whole time as you pathetically gathered yourself. He put his hand up, the back of it facing you. Flinching fearfully, you were prepared to dodge in case he felt like attacking again. Instead, his hand was suddenly stroking your face, the side that suffered the brutality. It was definitely an out-of-character gesture.

_Or was it?_

You could never tell from him. 

His fury was now absent and he was smiling, white teeth slightly visible. He must've been getting his rocks off to physically reminding you of your place. You were submissive once more, but he wanted to make sure of it.

"Go back, Puppet." he made a notion with his head, ordering you to return to The Room.

He commanded, and you were obedient.


	33. Cat

*

"This place isn't as good as Freddy's." You told your parents with impertinence. However, you honestly didn't care on which restaurant was better, you just felt like nipping at the folks out of boredom and minor frustration on being dragged here.

Your five year-old sister caught you off guard after running up and shoving a handful of markers in your arms.

"What the heck?" You said. 

"It's for Blank! You're sapposta draw on him!"

It was obvious the girl's favorite entertainment in this restaurant was coloring and drawing on the infamous animatronic.

"I don't want these nasty things, YOU take them!" You dropped them back on her, showering her head. Luckily she didn't get upset over this and only regathered them before running back to the strange animatronic. You always avoided the restaurant's markers at all costs. With how many filthy kids handled them a day, you could already imagine the illnesses swimming on your hands.

You personally didn't like Blank too well. You couldn't even stand to be near him for more than minute. It was an amazement how the young kids weren't afraid of his bulging eyes that just stared.

 _God, how they just STARED!_  

Maybe it was because of his lack of design and features, forcing him to resemble one of those faceless, unfinished puppets. You kept at a distance from his part of the restaurant and rejoined the few peers you met here earlier.

This may have been why you were in a seemingly okay mood; there were a few other twelve-year olds who were also victims of getting dragged to this restaurant for the sake of a younger sibling.

There were three of them. One (who caught your attention right away) was a girl with long, blonde braids. Her name was Laura and she was quite cute, or at least you certainly thought so, but you weren't the only person she attracted. There was one other boy who's interest was piqued with her. The only boy not fascinated was her fraternal twin brother, who kept thinking of how stupid it was that she was getting so much attention. Taking complete advantage of it (and loving every minute), she constantly put you and the other kid to the test.

Like a ringmaster with a whip, she commanded dares from the both of you, playing the infamous game of who would be braver. Twelve years of age was the magical start of arrogance entering a kid's life, mostly in the boys, and you were of no exception. Like almost every other peer, you thought you were invincible and too old to be bossed around by anyone other than your parents.

Who was to tell you not to write mild profanity on Blank's backside? Or not to mess up the empty tables, or even not to jump on the stage with Candy and Rat? All of this you accomplished within the last hour with your partners. You and the other boy were neck-to-neck, aching to break the tie. Laura had but a single dare left, and it would be tough.

"Alright..." She almost looked out of ideas while scanning parts of the restaurant in range, until her sights fell onto a far corner.

Following her eyes, your courage lightly sank when seeing what was most likely her picked target. Deep down you hoped she wouldn't use it as her last challenge.

"Go in **there**." She pointed to the door reading Employees Only.

This was a small step up from the previous mischief you were creating.

_Obvious block is obvious._

But why were you so nervous about taking on this last challenge? It was only breaking a small rule, like every other order she threw at you. Kids did this shit all the time! Even in school other kids would go into small rooms with a Staff Only sign present. What made _this_ so challenging? You asked yourself all this when feeling frustration caused by the mild setback of your cowering nerves.

The other boy forked you a smirk and was first to start heading over. Your competitive spirit refused to be left behind and you rushed passed him to the spot, but still hadn't worked up the courage to actually open the door. Luckily it wasn't just you who was experiencing the dark feeling of ambivalence drown your nerve. 

Laura and her brother had caught up. The only one who looked enthusiastic about this dare was her. Even her brother felt a weight of intimidation when examining. The knob was rusty and larger than your average simple doorknob. And the sign certainly wasn't messing around when addressing that what lay beyond was definitely employee-only territory.

So the door alone was intimidating, yet it only added excitement to Laura.

"Whatsamatter? You both chicken?" She egged on.

"Hell no!" You replied fast.

All the peers around you gasped.

"You cursed!" Your competitor stated the obvious.

"Yea? So what? Are you gonna tell my parents? Because if you do, that makes YOU the big loser here!" You told him. 

You hid it well, but you were actually hoping he wouldn't go and alert your folks for using mildly foul language out loud. However, you were also using this to your full advantage. You challenged the kid to be a tattle-tale, which no one liked. Ever.

"Yeah, don't be a snitch!" Laura took your side, which was saying something. The kid felt backed into a corner and could already taste the bitter flavor of defeat when seeing her side with you.

"Well, whatever. I'm going in." He said. To prove he was serious he put his hand on the knob and twisted. Pulling with a mild struggle, he managed to create enough space between the door for you to slip through. Despite the cheat he said nothing when noticing you had gone in. In fact, he no longer wanted to join. 

"Stay in there for three whole minutes. I'll be counting the seconds!" Laura gave a final touch to the challenge, just in case you planned on bolting back out. Since the other three were keeping watch for adults, none of them were peering inside to watch.

The inside was nothing special. It looked like an ordinary tool room, just not a big one. There was a small work bench with a metal box and a wall dedicated to minor tools like wrenches and screwdrivers of various sizes. It was a normal-looking tool room except for one thing that didn't belong; the tall blue Candy standing right in the middle less than a foot away.

Laura's last bit of instructions went through one ear and out the other. Your full attention was now on the Candy and several questions popped in your head at once.

 _There were_ two _Candy's?_

You thought of the one on stage while staring at this particular one. The most conspicuous details were the material and size. This Candy looked to be made of something like plastic. He was much thinner and had white markings on his body. All out he looked cartoonish. 

There were giggling sounds behind you, but you ignored it while gazing into Candy's large eyes. He was rather appealing. 

 _Why weren't they using_ this _Candy?_ You wondered before hearing another door open, and it wasn't the one you came through—It was the one in  **front** of you. It just wasn't seen due to Candy blocking the path.

You immediately threw yourself backwards, only to run straight into a closed barrier.

_The sore bastard outside had shut the door on you!_

In a panic your first instinct was to obviously turn the knob and push, but it didn't budge. So not only did they close the door, they were also holding it shut.

The action of yelling at them to let you out would've been next, but you didn't want to alert the person coming through on the other end. _Though it may have been useless by this point._ It was a guy, and of course he saw you after moving Candy to the side.

You instantly started pouring sweat under your clothes.

He didn't look to be very old; early twenties at the most. His hair was long and covering his eyes. Laura most definitely would've thought of him as very attractive, because his features—hair and face and everything—were looks you would've been happy to have.

His eyes widened when seeing there was a kid in his tool room, but he didn't seem discomposed.

"Hi there." He said in a low, masculine voice you again wished to have.

_This was awkward as hell._

"Uh...hi." You greeted back, feeling completely subjugated.

He peered hard into your eyes, then scanned the rest of your features, mostly engrossed by your hair.

"What's your name?"

" **[First Name]**." 

" **[First Name]**...?" He repeated, wanting the last, too.

" **[Last Name]**."

You weren't sure if he planned on using it to alert your parents for trespassing, but you spilled the personal information obediently. The reveal of your last name made his eyes broaden slightly again and give a dark shine.

"I see." He said, setting the screwdriver (you just now realized he had) down on the work bench.

"And you are how old?" He asked.

"Twelve."

"Ah. So not really a young adult yet, huh? Still a kid." He said while messing with Candy and inspecting the ears and eyes.

"Um...sure." 

"Let me guess, you got curious and wanted to look in here." He said and stuck his fingers in-between the cat's body plates, feeling for something unknown.

"You can say that, I guess." You answered, applying force to the door behind you again but achieving no results still.

"'S'okay to be curious. This here is the new Candy. He's made of something different as you can tell, but is a lot tougher than the junk piles you see on stage." He casually explained while patting the shiny plates of the new cat.

"He'll be joined by new partners, several actually. There will be a girl cat named Cindy. She'll be like a girlfriend to him I guess. Like a Mickey and Minnie thing...Heh. There'll be others too, like a chimp and such...but they aren't here yet." He picked up the screwdriver again and stuck it in Candy's neck.

Learning this restaurant would be getting an upgrade with new designs and characters was just a little on the fascinating side, but it didn't keep your interest since you weren't a little kid who obsessed over the theme. 

"Alright, I'm sure you don't give a flying fuck about any of that. So, tell me...why the hell did you even come in here?" He asked a real question this time, re-spiking your panic.

"Does it have to do with your little buddy out there?" He added, fully aware of someone else on the other side, but seemingly ignorant of the number. He most likely guessed only Laura after hearing her fits of laughter.

You planned on just saying yes until noticing his grip on the screwdriver change. He shifted from a soft hold to squeezing it hard, like he was suddenly furious and wanted to plunge the tool into the wall. His face, however, remained reposeful, contradicting the hostility.

Confusing?

_Hell yes it was!_

"Wanna invite them in?" He asked calmly.

You were stuck on responses, having absolutely no idea why he wanted more of you inside. Was it a waiting game to unleash his real anger when _all_ of you were in his presence so no one got off the hook on disobeying the rules?

"There's a lot of food we keep in the back here." He said, hitching a thumb to the far door he came out of.

"I like giving away free things to the older kids 'cause they aren't noisy and annoying like the little tykes out there. You interested?" 

Your conscience jumped on another edge. Part of you was excited about the too-good-to-be-true offer, while the other part was ambivalent and a little suspicious. 

 _Why was he suddenly this generous?_ Your mind tried assuming he was maybe just a chill staff member who went easy on the older kids. An immature side prodded and thought about how awesome it would've been to get free food from an employee while the other three outside missed out, as payback for trapping you.

"Do I HAVE to let them in?" You asked.

" **Yes**." He replied almost sternly.

The warm look in his eyes dimmed to an eerie gaze, chilling you.

 _He demanded you let others inside..._ And it looked like he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. His vibe was completely transformed from cool employee to shadowy person, chasing off your immaturity. You were left with only your protective mode that wanted to get the hell out while it was still possible.

 _If the fuckers_ let _you out!_

The door you were practically drilling yourself into was flung open when all three pre-teens pulled on it together, causing you to gasp and go sprawling onto the floor outside.

"Okay, you can—"

Laura stopped mid-sentence when she saw the young man you had been locked in with. The guy himself looked more surprised than the trio gawking back. The awkward stares broke when his eyes plummeted to a glare, looking heavily irritated about something. It looked as if...he wasn't happy about the number of other kids with you.

"How 'bout this; why don't the four of you get the hell away from this room and I won't tell your parents what you've been doing? Sound fair?" He offered a new and very different deal prior to the one given only a minute ago.

"Okay!" Laura replied fast and pushed the door back shut. The man said nothing more, nor did you hear him on the other side.

All of you ran back over to the dining area, lightly spooked. If anyone felt it the worst it was you. The chilly temperature in the restaurant cooled down your sweating body. It felt like you had little oxygen when sharing the same space with the man minutes ago, and your lungs were rejoicing in the fresh air again.

"So what went on in there?"

The two other boys were rightfully interested in what the hell happened when you were trapped with the guy. No one said anything, but they all felt guilty for tricking you.

"Nothing, really. He seemed okay at first..." You started, thinking about how calm he was when catching you.

"At first?"

"Yeah, then...then you guys opened the door and he got angry. I don't know." You almost felt like telling them about the original free food offering. 

 _Why did he change his mind? Didn't he want everyone else to be with you?_  Your mind went crazy over the weird alteration.

"He was scary." Laura's brother said.

"Well...I thought he looked kinda hot. Even if he was mad." The girl admitted, blushing when thinking back on the appealing features that grabbed her interests, even though she only saw him for no more than twenty seconds.

"Seriously? Even in that green outfit he was wearing? It looked awful." Her brother criticized.

"Just because you hate the color green doesn't mean everyone else does. You're just jealous because he had muscles and you don't!" She defended.

"Hey, screw off!" The sibling threw back, causing you and the other boy to laugh.

"The room did look pretty cool before I saw him. It was basically a tool room." You geared the subject away from the shady man dressed in green, but left out the not-so minor detail about the new Candy being stored and worked on in there.

"Well the good news is you'll never see that dude again." The boy you were competing with over ten minutes ago brought up a point that soothed your strong chills over the incident.

"No kidding..." You said.


	34. Passive aggressively attached

This was an initial day you were glad to be wearing a mask. Your healing process was slow. Wearing the puppet mask was like putting a bag over your head and hiding the physical damage...and perhaps shame.

Unfortunately you weren't given the luxury of having even so much as an icepack, or something soothing of any kind to help your muscle and tissue. The best you could do was clean the wound with water. Your lip stung. A small, riving cut had come as an extra gift.

You were slower at preparing for the morning, as if the pain in your face somehow reached to the rest of the muscles in your body. In total it took an extra ten minutes, and the second you finally slipped the mask on your face felt uncomfortably cramped. Granted the swelling was down, but the bruising still went strong. The slightest touch was painful and with the mask constantly rubbing against your face, things were almost too unbearable.

Peter had disturbingly impressive combat skills if he was able to do this with just one lightning fast back-hand. The aim was perfect, impacting the worst corners of your face. Too perfect to be just luck on his side.

You were sure as hell no more taunting would be coming from your challenging nerve.

You released a cough, slightly gagged from the pain in your chest, and finally opened the room's thick door. The door, heavy as ever, gave you another quick reminder of the tiny version of what could have been a pummeling your chest received; though it may as  _well_ have been repeatedly struck—the aftermath sure felt like you were hit more than just once.

"This day will be magical." You muttered when leaving the room, lagging profusely.

His uncanny ability to appear randomly was demonstrated when he called out in a whisper: "You're late. There's a reason why I want you out here at a certain time." 

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Putting this thing on with a sensitive, disproportionate face was just  **little** challenging." You responded and pointed at the mask.

"I don't wanna have to start going in there and getting you myself." He threatened. Then he was out of sight and mind for the next quarter of the day.

Every now and then the side of your face would ache. You would slip into the restrooms to splash cold water and slip back out. It was a decent substitute for ice, but after several dosages it lost its effect. Then Zan had walked by and tapped on your mask; the side that tortured the swollen portion.

"Hey! You gonna hand out presents today or just loaf around?" He teased.

 _Tap! Tap!_ He prodded even harder.

"Ow! Stop." You yelped out of instinct and pulled away from his reach. 

"'Ow'? You hurt behind there?" He asked, now inquisitive to see if there were any wounds on your face.

"No. No, I'm okay. I just don't like people doing that. Sorry."

You were quick in denying anything physically wrong that may be causing you to say Ow of all things.

_Good Lord, you were like an abused girlfriend hiding her injuries in shameful denial!_

So many new personas you took on because of Him, and you hated every one.

"Alright...if you say so. Anywho, I'm gonna take out the garbage. Apparently no one did it last night. Wanna help? You don't have to, just make your decision in the next five seconds." He offered. You were close to saying "Hell no" until it dawned that the task would allow you to get away from the guests for a bit.

"Yeah, sure. Got nothing better to do." You accepted and followed him away from the guest population.

The two of you headed out the back door leading to the dumpsters, where a large mobile bin with several full trash bags inside sat.

"O'CMON! They didn't even  _tie_ the bags either?!" Zan huffed. You helped him tie the shiny bags before prepping them for hauling, all the while gritting your teeth from light chest pain.

"You weren't closing last night, were you?" You questioned.

"No. I was only here to play around as Freddy and then left a few hours before closing. Trust me, if I'm closing, this shit would not have happened."

Zan let it be known that as long as he was among the nightly clean up crew, slip ups like this wouldn't be happening. It showed how valuable he was for this place. A serious employee was a good employee. He perfected it by always being jolly and comical. He was serious, but he wasn't a dry dick.

"That makes me wonder if Beth was the one leading the night crew. Speaking of..." He started as he grabbed the bag you picked up and hurled it into the filthy green dumpster.

"She's a bitch? Yeah, I know. What's new?" You said.

"Actually..." He restarted and hurled another bag in the giant container with a grunt.

"I'd watch your step with that." His voice was absent of sarcasm.

"Uh...why?" You asked, not moved by the possible warning.

"Cause from what I hear, you're on her list; the list of people she tries to get fired." He explained with great concerned.

You almost fell in laughter.

 _God Damn, if only he knew the truth._  

You thought it was hysterical. Hysterical this woman was trying so hard to make the impossible happen.

"Pup, I'm not kidding. You're in her line of fire. She's constantly trying to get Peter to fill out the paper work." Zan kept going. This only conjured more snorts.

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"How do you _know_ that?" He asked and threw in the last bag.

"Trust me, I just know." You told him and headed back inside without waiting.

He brushed by again after you finished scrubbing your hands clean.

"Oh hey, one last thing; Peter says he wants to see you in his office..." He informed, face a tad pale with paranoia. He truly thought his warnings about this possible firing were too late, and that you were headed to Peter for the lay-off to happen.

 _Why the fuck did he want you there?_ Your wonders couldn't be more different than Zan's, but you had an idea the summoning may have to do with the tardiness this morning.

 _What's he gonna do, give you a detention?_ You smirked and headed over to the far hallway leading to his office.

 _Or hit you again..._ Your mind popped, making a chill run through your body.

"Yeah...there's that." You answered yourself. _Now_ you were worried. Your heart jumped to your throat when you saw his door ajar. You pushed your way in. He was sitting with his back to you, staring at the video feed.

"Teacher told me to go to the office." You tried to jest, but the fear didn't leave.

"Close the door." He instructed with a benign voice.

"Alright, what is it?" You were more somber this time, just wanting to get whatever it was over with.

"Go ahead and take that off, the mask." He said next, and you complied, being careful to avoid the most tender spots.

With your face exposed to the air, there was a pleasurable cooling sensation. Even with nothing touching you, the side of it gave off a maddening throb of dull pain every few seconds. Your body was displeased of having an application of bad pressure disturbing its wounds, and it was getting back at you for it...

There was just one large bruise starting from the side of your jaw and ending on the cheek bone, right below your eye. It was mostly a bluish purple with a hint of green and yellow in the middle. Running along the smaller portion of discoloration was a thin red vein, resembling a bloody lightning bolt. The horrible impact had caused a section of your eye to redden from trauma, though it did not give any pain. Whenever you were to gaze at yourself you swore the mark always looked worse than it felt. However, your mind would tend to change when being reminded just how bad it  **did** feel.

You lowered your head and cautiously ran fingers along the skin of your face, testing the sensitivity. Your eyes closed, cringing at the dull pain. With a lowered head, the growing bangs draped over your vision, making it impossible to see Peter turn around and watch you suffer from the self-infliction. You snapped back into looking at him when hearing his chair squeak as he stood up. His face was expressionless and indecipherable, making you tense up in fear as he closed in without saying a word. You had turned your head a bit away from him, shielding the bruised side.

 _If you're going to hit me again use the undamaged side_...

"Here. Swallow these."

Your vision peered downward. His right hand was held up near your face, carrying three white pills.

_What for?_

"It's alright. They're just painkillers." He was still calm.

Your gaze stayed on the pills while struggling to understand what he was doing.

_He was offering you pain killers? Something to help you? Peter was HELPING you??_

This was a move you didn't think would happen. If anything, you expected him to merely grin in morbid amusement at the agony being endured whenever he saw it shimmering in your eyes. The pain that was a reminder of when you tried being a clever bastard and test his anger. You were sure he'd make you suffer through the whole thing as one big punishment...It would make sense. _It's something he'd do, right_??

In a state of uncertainty, it was unsure if his offering should be taken or not. Then he suddenly moved away, turning back to his desk. You were under the assumption that he was retracting the offer, until he grabbed something else; a cup of icy water with a straw.

"Go ahead." He encouraged, putting his hands closer.

Eventually realizing it would've been stupid to reject, you slowly held out a hand, palm facing upwards and ready to accept the trio of painkillers. He dropped them into your care and lifted the ice water to your mouth. For second you almost made an instinctual attempt to grab it out of his hand.

 _"You wanna drink? You let ME do it!"_  His old words rang in your head like a mental warning, halting your actions. 

You popped the white pills before leaning in and taking a hold of the straw. You filled your mouth with a large amount of ice water and swallowed everything in a big gulp. Your insides cramped lightly from the sudden freezing water, causing a moment of discomfort to where you hadn't noticed the trail of rogue water dribbling down the corner of your mouth. Not until he reached up and brushed it away with a finger, sending an alert.

So what was the catch, you wondered?

 _What's the catch, Peter? You gonna smack me again and tell me I'll get over it because I took painkillers? You gonna make me do something for you in return?_ _You gonna tell me that only two of them were legit but one was a "different" kind of drug?_ The list went on. There had to be some kind of catch to this...one of his tricks!

His hand reached back up and stroked the side of your healing face. Somehow the pain wasn't so bad with his touch.

"You know...I didn't like doing that, giving this to you." He spoke again, referring to his physical strike.

"What?" You asked, unable to comprehend on where he was trying to get at.

 _Was he apologizing?? Apologizing for hitting you??_  Your mind ran to unimaginable conclusions.

"I didn't enjoy hurting you. Believe it or not, I don't like inflicting any amount of pain on you, especially if it leaves a visible temporary 'scar'. Like this bruise here. Out of cuts and various wounds I hate bruises the most. They're ugly. If I want someone to bleed they have to bleed externally, and not have it sit under their flesh. Then it's just a nasty ugly mess that can't be cleaned." He explained with grotesque examples. 

 _You_ did _make me bleed externally, prick. Do you not remember the rag I soaked to the point where it's now re-dyed? You don't remember the fountain coming out of my nose? Seriously??_

You wanted to project this so badly, but refused to trigger any of his anger. You were bent on not adding to this bruise painting up the side of your face.

"I don't want to cause you imperfections, which is exactly what I did. And I regret it completely. I don't enjoy seeing the suffering it causes every minute, either." He put his hand on the sore spot again, gently running his fingers down your face, gazing at the dark wound like it was an invader on the body that needed to leave.

"If that's how you truly feel, then wouldn't it have made more sense to feed me these things a long time ago?" You asked, too fast to think on how much trouble the question could get you into.

He smiled, putting his hand down.

"Heh. You're right. Yes, it would've. However...I also wanted the lesson to sink into you as much as the pain did. You stepped out of line, Puppet, you can't forget that. You _made_ me put an end to your little playful rebellion you had going on. So I delayed the healing from moving fast. It was a _lesson_ , Puppet. Remember that." He said as he moved close again, his hand on the undamaged side of your face this time.

"But I'm sure the bad behavior won't happen again. As long as it doesn't, I promise to treat my precious valuable possessions much better." He concluded the unusual apology.

With your head too sore to pull away from his grip, he found it effortless to tilt your chin and claim your forehead with his tongue, sending a hot jolt through your nerves, surpassing even the facial pain. You were surged with deja vu and felt violated again, but couldn't pull yourself away.  

It was an odd way to say sorry, but even weirder to be this passive-aggressive. 


	35. Horrible games

You weren't sullen but you've been careful with your approach, especially after the fiasco of when Peter made your face paint itself with its own blood over a week ago.

The man would always be his own personal brand of an anomalous creature with a capricious attitude, and about almost every day brought different actions. Actually it was more of a cycle, and you now had it completely memorized. He was in positive moods when it was early in the week and very temperamental or testy towards the end. On Saturdays... only two words could describe your best actions when it came to him;

Keep away.

 _Like a bitch on her rag..._ You would catch yourself thinking since it truly made you think about some of the teen girls in school who would go erratic, though you eventually took this opinion back, for not all girls were like this, and most of all, no one should be compared to someone like Peter, except for his own cousin.

His positive moods weren't the typical happy and carefree like a normal person's. Positive for Him was not acting like a furious man who was ready to hack away at his employees. And if worst came to worst, taking it out on _you_. Positivity also included toying around with you for his own enjoyment. Even if you had absolutely no interest in partaking in it. They were like horrible games he'd play.

Today was Tuesday, and by mid afternoon there was just one party with a group of uninteresting people. They were rather quiet, wanting nothing to do with the employees unless they personally asked for their assistance. They seemed very unfitting for a place like this.

_Then why in the hell would they come to an obnoxious kid's restaurant?_

A few of the staff eventually took the hint and left the family alone, chatting near the main stage. You had decided to stay near the restrooms. You faced forward, but were able to see some of the staff shooting glances at you and softly communicating with one other.

 _What's the matter? Don't wanna speak up to where I can actually hear you?_  You thought, annoyed by their gossip. Amazingly, you were able to take a step back from the anger and see things in their point of view. A lot of them had witnessed you exploding and attacking two guests.

You were technically defending yourself, but the point was you had  _assaulted_ someone. Yet here you were, still "employed" in their eyes. They had every right to be confused with the fact that you had technically gone without being disciplined. They could only guess and poorly put inaccurate answers together by themselves since none of them ever talked to you, which brought up another wonder. Other than pulling you away from your attack on the two pigs, none of them ever spoke to you. Save for Zan...

You soon grew tired of standing in one spot, and not to mention the stares that came every other second were getting on your last nerve. Unfortunately, Peter wouldn't be allowing you to hide anywhere, so you used your last resort.

A restroom break.

You entered the men's bathroom and were glad the clean up crew did a good job in here, too. It was impressive, but you went back to doing what you came in here for.

_A few minutes would even do._

You passed by every stall until making it to the largest one at the very end, entering inside.

Peter's temper be damned. You were confident a punishment was to come your way, but all care was lost the second you put yourself against the tile wall and slumped to the floor.

You removed the mask, the cool air feeling beyond wonderful on your sweating, bruised face. A semi tired yawn conjured from your lungs, but your mind and body wouldn't get enough time to shrivel up into lethargy, for at this moment someone else had entered the restroom. You weren't in viewing distance, but you scrambled back up to your feet. A quantity of regret pumped in your system as angry steps from the new visitor became audible.

Peter busted through the stall door—which you stupidly hadn't bothered closing and securing—causing a hard flinch from you. You prepared yourself to come up with some excuse on explaining why you were sitting in here, especially with the puppet mask off.

Your assumption on his mood was destroyed when seeing the grin on his face. A hungry grin. A grin signaling that he definitely had something else on his mind instead of unleashing a pissed-off wrath.

He slammed the stall door shut behind him and blindly locked it perfectly. You pressed yourself hard against the wall, failing to find any words to quell the high amount of energy springing off him. He clearly wouldn't have let you, anyway.

He slithered over to your presence and put one hand against the wall near your head and leaned close in a stereotypical arrogant, flirtatious manner. His other hand fearlessly traveled its way up to your face and prodded at the large scab still sitting on your lower lip.

"Oh my, looks like you've got some injuries there. That one looks like it was painful." He stated in his infamous voice with the perfect amount of rasp, smile not leaving. It brought a bit of your own temper back to life.

"How insightful. What's next? You gonna tell me how we're both males and that we're in the men's lavatory?" 

His smile went cheshire, as if he truly got a kick out of the humor part tucked tightly inside your fiery sarcasm. It exposed his perfect teeth even greater. For a second you wondered if he was going to release the chuckle that seemed to be building in his chest.

"Classy words make you sound so... tantalizing..." He responded, his thumb now caressing your lip. In the back of your mind lay a masochistic pleasure of feeling his appendage glide itself across your semi-sore lip. 

"Honestly, now how _did_ those get there? Tell me." He was smug.

You glared at him, sensing he was too much into his good mood to feel threatened by the very minor defiance, which you'd be using to your advantage.

"You know how it got there, asshole. It was  _your_ fault."

He took his thumb off you and switched to his index finger, running it up and down the side of your face with the healing trauma, his white smile drawing the most attention from your eyes. 

" _Was_ it my fault? Or was it yours?" He asked, turning the question around. There was a small vibe coming off him that told you he had reached the limit with your defiance, and he fixed this by showing a hint of earnest.

"You and your little challenges. THAT'S how it got there, Puppet. From me... _correcting_ you. But don't dwell too much on it, though. Mistakes happen, and I have no problem correcting them and guiding you in the right direction." 

You weren't sure on how to take this comment, but you wouldn't be getting much of a chance before he leaned his face into yours. You immediately expected another snarky statement to leave his mouth, but that very maw had other plans. Within seconds you felt it on yours.

Like a master of physical manipulation, he silently convinced you to slowly open your mouth, allowing him access without argument. His tongue slinked passed your teeth and brushed the roof of your mouth before pulling the kiss off, leaving a small string of saliva connecting the two of you.

He moved onto the skin of your shoulder meeting the neck, and began sucking on it firmly like some starving vampiric creature. Your body wasn't so hesitant to give into the natural pleasure, even though you _attempted_ to refuse them. But with the domination of Peter and his taboo seduction being so powerful over you... this thought alone had you melting, and goosebumps blanketed all corners of your skin.

You lightly gasped when feeling him push himself between your legs, pressing against your bulge.

_You had an erection, and you had a big one..._

He gave unyielding thrusts with an adequate amount of force to put pressure on a great portion of your mid-section. It started off as painful, but all physical discomfort migrated to your lower section and morphed back into the aching pain that was anything but negative. With your neck being bitten so good and nether regions grinding against one another, a purr escaped from within your throat.

The man had his own pleased muffling sounds fleeing from the system and you greatly wondered when he'd take things to the next level. However, the nuisance of waiting was interrupted by the sound of feet walking into the restroom.

_Someone else had entered the bathroom._

Your mind dove into instant panic, and for a brief second it felt like you were back at school, performing inappropriate affections in the bathroom that was about to be interrupted by a teacher. Your insides jumped and you instinctively tried pushing him off. However, he put a firm grip on your upper arm, pressing even harder against you. He wouldn't be allowing you to fend him off, even with the restroom's new visitor.

He pinned you firmer in your spot, making his silent message clear; the foreplay wouldn't be stopping or slowing down. It would continue. _And increase._

He pulled his mouth away and replaced it with his flexible, wet tongue. It lavished your neck with three soft strokes before painting its way up to your mouth. You expected him to restart a kiss, but the tongue simply brushed your lips and hiked up over the nose. Before you could really fathom what he was trying to accomplish, the fleshy organ reached all the way up to your forehead, a very thin amount of his gooey saliva left in its wake. It's like you were some sort of food object he was claiming to keep others from touching you. He was claiming you.

"Fucking kid threw frosting on me. I tell ya man, I'm ready to throw those fuckers out..."

Your ears rang, picking up on the talk going on just feet away.

 _So there were_ two _others in here!_

"I'm just gonna go back in the kitchen and wait it out. They have everything they need. Just don't bother them anymore." The other said. They turned on the sinks and began cleaning off the sugary residue on their hands, completely oblivious to what was unfolding in the furthest stall just feet away.

Peter repositioned and met with your mouth again, another deep pleasing moan built up within him. His breaths mildly multiplied each minute due to his rising pulse, but he relied on his nostrils for ventilation since his mouth was busy. 

You released a groan. Your pants were  **not** feeling good against your growing excitement. The one thing keeping it from flourishing anymore and becoming unbearable was the fact that there were people right there. Peter, however, must've found this absolutely exciting as he pulled his sides away from you and replaced them with his hand, rubbing your jeans where the bulge was suffering.

_How would the risk of being caught give him a reason to go at things even harder?!_

Finally the two employees left the bathroom, and Peter traveled his hand up to your belt and slowly fiddled with it. Your nerves spiked with impatience, your growth reaching its limit in the trapped confinement.

_Yes, do it!!_

His hand suddenly stopped and slid off your body. Before you could find a way to make it come back, he steadily broke off the drenching kiss, but not completely. His lips slid to the corner of yours where the scab existed and had yet to fully heal. His smile was felt against you, his lips stretching out, and his teeth were upon you in seconds, aggressively grabbing ahold of your scab and biting down with more than enough force to tear it back open before you could even remotely realize what he was up to.

You of course yelled out from the stinging pain being accompanied by the now loose blood spilling over your lip. You shoved him off, successful this time, though only because he allowed it.

Hunched over, you cupped a hand below your chin, catching the falling mixture of blood and saliva while the other ripped off a piece of toilet paper and applied pressure over the reopened wound. You heard Peter's grotesque-sounding chuckle as he opened the stall door and made his way out. He got as far as the sinks before you finally spoke.

"You fucking asshole!" You snarled, not caring if he became angry over this.

Not surprisingly, he hadn't.

"I know." You heard him say.

"What?"

He reached the door and glanced back. You could see a couple smears of your blood on his lips.

"I know I'm an asshole, Puppet." He casually replied before removing the bloodstains with a single, smooth lick of his tongue.

He exited the restroom.

"Is this what you call treating your possessions much better??"

There would've been more inner satisfaction had you said this when he was still in ear-distance.

You hobbled over to the sinks to clean the re-opened wound better. The erection was completely gone and replaced with effects of the ever-horrid blue balls. You also saw the large hickey and teeth marks left on your neck. It was too big to be completely covered by your shirt collar.

So he did  _three_ things to humiliate you.

_These fucking horrible games of his..._


	36. Drunken antics

"Peace peace, Puppet! Thou talk'st of nothing!" Peter said with facetious chortles when you had the audacity to mention his consumption of an alcoholic beverage was more than a little excessive and probably not the best of ideas, especially when the restaurant was still closing.  

Thirty minutes before guests started making their departure, he'd whip out a dark glass bottle of what you guessed was rum and began drinking it straight with absolutely no shame. Luckily for him none of the parents or children caught a glimpse of his actions, but the employees seemed to know this was a reoccurring habit of his, for they only threw a glance before carrying on with their closing lists without questioning the boss. Another clue shouting their opposition to interfere was when you came up to one of them and asked what they planned on doing about it.

"Don't you think it's a bit crazy to let him keep doing that in here?" You had asked. It was the first time in directly talking to one of them like this.

"Yeah, but then again he's kind of a crazy guy. After all, he let YOU stay." The guy responded and hauled the garbage bags to the dumpsters.

_"He let YOU stay."_

What in the hell did he mean by that?

_Ohhh..._

He must've been referring to how you were allowed to stay on the job after assaulting two guests a while back. 

 _So much for that help._  

This is when it was decided to approach Peter yourself, resulting in his response.

"Right...have fun then, _Romeo_." You replied.

He hiccuped another laugh.

"Yeahh...I'm quite the Romeo, aren't I?" He insisted with just a drop of more rasp in his tone than usual. He was referring to how a few female guests, one of them being the mom of a birthday girl, had showered him with extra attention a couple hours ago, despite all of them having husbands. Oblivious at the time, Peter had snorted a few invisible flames when one of his employees requested him out of his office and to a specific party table.

"Because they specifically asked for you..." They explained to him.

He didn't need any more explanations when he saw the looks on the women's faces when they noticed him approaching. One widened her eyes and leaned into the others and whispered inaudible things that were easy to guess, and the rest turned his way and sadly attempted to look more attractive.

Upon realizing their real intentions, the host felt terribly embarrassed but quietly slipped away, leaving their boss to deal with the thirsty females by himself. It would actually be one of the rare times the staff had a chance to get a good chuckle at him.

"Do you see him getting eyed by those wannabe-milfs?" One said to another, who you happened to be standing near during a small break, making you take a look with the two. They laughed, but you—

 _What_ were _you feeling?_

It was slow in development, but a small tickle crawled up your gut and into your chest. You finally let the dry laugh escape when seeing how uncomfortable he looked. His reactions weren't the normal chagrined expressions of blushes and stuttering. He bore a tautened frown masking humiliation behind it, accompanied with a pair of dark eyes that all but lost their intimidation. To Peter, this  **was** terrible embarrassment.

 _Enjoy, asshole!_ You thought. 

"No...I can't stay. I have work to do. I'm sorry...uh...ladies." He was eventually successful in shaking the man-hungry trio off. They were disappointed, even giving him sad eyes, but he responded by simply turning around and heading back to his office, where he'd take shelter until a little before closing.

"Yeah, you'd think those lonely sows would find something else to help out their poor little situation." He suddenly began talking to you.

"What?" You asked, muddled. His swimming mind must've thought he was having some sort of conversation about the incident with you already.

"Are we even on the same the same page, bruh?" You said.

"Nnnope." He replied quick, almost cutting you off.

_Well, at least he's aware enough to realize that much._

"Hey, before you get totally hammered, you mind opening that door for me so I can turn in early? Or am I gonna be babysitting your ass?" You asked him. You didn't care what he did now, as long as you weren't in the wake of it. 

He grumbled, stayed mute for a few seconds, and then finally moved toward the far hallway holding The Room. You didn't follow him right away. You made sure there were only two or three employees left in the restaurant and engrossed with cleaning before heading to the room.

 _He's all yours._ You mentally told the remaining staff while closing the thick door.

The day drained all energy and you weren't super raring on seeing what nightly antics Peter may have in mind for this evening, but there were ideas. The most likely scenario was him passing out somewhere in the restaurant, but that would be his own problem, and you wanted nothing to do with it.

 _Just sleep._  Your mind ushered. You pulled the dark long sleeved-shirt off and tossed it on the cold floor and threw yourself onto the mattress you called a bed. There was never a blanket, but the best out of this situation is that the pants you wore were soft enough to be more than comfortable.

* * *

 

When awakening you were unsure if it was the middle of the night. Still being partially asleep, both your half-closed vision and mind were fuzzy, delaying on any reactions, might there be any.

Assuming it was just a random wake up, you relaxed in attempt to fall back asleep. After about thirty seconds, sense of smell kicked in and the scent of alcohol was strong to where you could almost  _taste_ it.

Your eyes opened again to see Him standing over with his face right above yours. There wouldn't have been a guess on what he was trying to do if it wasn't for the drunkenness in his eyes, giving you strong indication that he wouldn't be going away any time soon.

Your nose wrinkled at his rum-fuming breath and you reached up to push his face away. You would've added a weak "Fuck off" if it wasn't for the physical barrier your hand ran into. You had struck his chest. He wasn't standing over you; he was _laying_  over you.

This kicked a wake-up call in your body, triggering a yawn and a spike of blood flow. Your pupils dilated and adjusted right after, noticing the rest of his dark outline. His infamous grin was present, flashing white teeth that had been bathed in rum over the last several hours. The aroma almost burned the insides of your nostrils.

"I kinda preferred you knocked out. You were a lot more cooperative that way." He spoke. His quiet laugh splashed a fragrance of alcohol over you like a wave, making you finally turn in disgust and speak.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, your proper pitch still waking up. 

"But that would take away the fun. The fun in hearing and seeing your reactions. So it all works out." 

"Get off me, you drunk bast—"

Not having the ability to push him off didn't mean you wouldn't protest. However, he put an end to the grumpy speech by sinking his mouth into yours. Your tastebuds were forced awake by the sting of spice.

It was a sloppy kiss, ending with him slipping out his tongue and running it up over your nose. You moved again, freeing yourself to speak.

"You don't take 'no' for an answer, do you?" You asked in mild aggravation.

Peter giggled a bit harder than he normally would've.

"What'samatter? Not in the mood?" 

" **No**." You said. It earned your face being grabbed.

"Then let me help you get there." He whispered in a deep rasp, awakening the rest of your sensory organs from their slumber and giving you second thoughts. Your skin heated up when he leaned back in and swabbed his slimy tongue along your neck, spiking chill bumps. 

You were immobile at first, allowing him to trail all around your neck and ending at skin that connected to your shoulder, putting his jaws over.

 _Don't bite hard..._ You almost pleaded. He gave a firm suck, creating a new mark on your flesh that was sure to remain for the next couple of days. You swallowed, keeping your mind under control from unleashing the urges within clawing to reach the surface.

Even when you were tired he had a hex-like control over absolutely everything. Your resilience to his playful but dangerous mouth was dissolved the second his right hand traveled downwards, and you felt him rubbing the lower section between your legs. All your muscles in that one spot tightened to an uncomfortable feeling before loosening and morphing into one of unbearableness.

Yet you yearned for more.

Your brain demanded more oxygen, making you take in a large breath after the horde of tiny knots in your crotch area raved. He consumed the last bit of air taken by throwing his mouth on yours again. His alcohol flavored-tongue ran down the top of your own and was practically tickling the start of your throat.

He began with soft rubs and escalated with firm massaging until your growth was at its peak while still behind the material of your pants. When he knew the barrier was ready for disassembling, he pulled his wet mouth off and took a single second to stare at you with a victorious, teeth-flashing smile.

Despite his dark eyes, you were able to catch a tiny gleam in the both of them, pinpointing where they were behind the velvet of shadow. He let out what sounded like a short growl that turned into a chuckle before he moved off of you.

 _This wasn't another fucking tease, was it?..._ A small panic drilled your chest. You expected him to disappear and just leave it all as that, making you suffer another painful round of hyper needs not being met.

These worries were killed when his presence returned, but on your lower body. He grabbed the waist of your pants and slowly slid them off to where they exposed your member and eased the swelling. The sensation of tight knots shot right back up and summoned a fiery wave as his hand grabbed the rock-hard length.

"Uhnn..." Was the only thing you could verbally get out. This was followed by several hard breaths with your heart rate escalating in response to your length being handled by him for a second time.

"That's right." He said and gently stroked the shaft several times before something new was next to shatter the haze in your head for a brief moment.

His slimy tongue slid itself upwards on your length, enhancing the tight sensation. It was taken to a new level when he put his entire mouth on your erection. He was neither gentle nor slow this time. He delved right into it to where you were gasping.

It was instinctual but not intentional. You had used your legs and pushed away from the overwhelming pleasure, escaping his hold temporarily. He fixed this by grabbing your sides and pulling you back down aggressively, restarting the oral session.

He wasn't pleased with the literal slip up, but it was forgivable, and he continued straight back into his content work. He held onto your side with a free hand this time so the same mistake couldn't be repeated. With no way to slow down the rising fire deep within the loins, your hot breaths became faint moans as your muscles locked up and you hit your point of no return.

Right before things became a miniature geyser, he'd pull his mouth off and replace the grip with his hand, immediately catching the warm liquid from shooting out everywhere. With your closed eyes, you didn't see the giant grin he had on his face along with his tongue slithering across the lips like he had just tasted his victory.

 _Perhaps he did_.

Your body finally relaxed as you let out a sigh, joined by tired panting you thought would never end. Peter was generous enough to push the partially lowered pants back up over your waist before your head felt tremendously tired again. Slowly, breathing eventually returned to normal.

"Thass my Puppet." You heard him say in his low raspy voice as you closed your eyes for the rest of the night.


	37. Two's better than one

*  
Being at the end of age twelve, there were three things you always thought were true;

You were invincible, you knew everything, and you could take on anything.

This day would be the first in making a borderline-rebellious move. You had worked up the courage to skip school by using a public phone and calling the school's office. You were very good at impersonating your father's voice...

Staying home obviously wasn't an option, and faking sick never worked, so you did what any kid who skipped did; you took a stroll around some parts of town, but away from the areas that usually had cops patrolling or just hanging about. You were very independent and mature for your age—a lot of kids were, so you didn't feel the slightest of uneasy or have any worries.

You passed a couple streets, all the while ignoring stares received from adults who most likely knew a game of hooky was being played but didn't care enough to contact authorities. The only down side of this was that you couldn't walk into any of your favorite stores. The random adults here and there may not have cared for your class absence, but many of the store owners _would_.

You zagged around a few spots, avoiding the radar of businesses that had no problem ratting a kid out. On the way you passed by a small ally and spotted another kid around your age, leaning against the brick wall. He was looking down at his shoes but immediately picked his head up when sensing someone else. He was rightfully cautious in case he needed to run off, but relaxed when seeing it was just another boy. 

He smiled, even, then looked rather keen and approached. You were prepared to take off if it turned out he wasn't as innocent as he appeared.

A feature on him that absorbed most your attention was his  **[Hair Color]**  hair resembling yours, but it was long and had purple and blue streaks in it. You thought it looked amazing. This kid must've had some pretty awesome parents...

"You playing hooky, too?" He was first to break the ice and wasn't nervous about it. It may have been an obvious question on his part, but catching another kid skipping class on the same day had a fun rush to it.

"Uh...yea." You replied, still cautious of his movement.

Everything seemed okay so far.

"Cool! None of my friends wanted to join me, so I guess I did it alone. Yeah...I got a bit nervous earlier 'cause I think there was a cop following me, but I lost him and stayed here for the passed twenty minutes or so. Or maybe an hour, I haven't kept track." He laughed. He came off as normal and you slowly relaxed.

"So, what's your name?" You asked him. The kid gave it politely and stated he was thirteen.

"That's cool. I'll be thirteen in a few more months. My name's **[First Name]**." You gave your introduction back.

"Nice name. What school you go to?" He asked curiously.

You told him and he didn't seem all that impressed.

"I know that one, but I don't go there. My school is one of your rivals. But I don't give a shit about that." His swear word made you smirk.

"Well, **[First Name]** , why don't we ditch this shitty ally and go somewhere else? C'mon, two's always better than one." He offered undauntedly. Your insides charmed. The timing was perfect since the nearby rotting trash was beginning to wave its fumes and become unbearable. 

"Hell yeah!" You agreed, and the two of you carefully got out of this part of town and toward some place else. It was unsure of where things were headed since you were following the kid, who was strongly leading. As the both of you successfully avoided heavily populated streets and buildings, there was a slight hint in where his destination was.

"So where are we going?" You finally prodded.

"Fazbear's." He answered, not changing his pace. 

"Why there?" You weren't meaning to protest, but were curious as to why he picked such a place.

"My friends heard a rumor of that place. Apparently it gives out a lot of free pizza and sweets to the older kids if they don't have their parents with them. I want to test this and make sure it's legit." He explained. It was an interesting reason that earned no objections, and eventually the very well-known building was in sight, and the two of you began to race to see who'd get there first.

Even though the other kid was slightly more impressive in built, you managed to win. He was out of breath before he even got to the entrance.

"Shit, kid...you're fast!" He proclaimed. And he was correct. Though a bit drained, you weren't the slightest out of breath. He caught his breath before the two of you stared into the doors' glass windows.

Because of the sun's glare, it was impossible to see directly inside, but you guessed the place was empty, however it certainly wasn't closed. There were no cars in the parking lot, but with it being a school day there was no wondering as to why this was.

The kid kicked away a few cigarette butts laying on the ground near the doors.

"Gross." You muttered, unaware that in a couple years down the road you'd be amongst the many cancer-stick addicts, tossing the useless ends onto the ground yourself.

You put an ear to the door, wondering if perchance anything inside could be heard, such as the band.

Only silence. 

All confidence was steadily beginning to deplete, and seeing only your reflection in the oblong glass sent a cringing chill. There was a strange intuition rising blackly.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn't do this, man. Maybe we should just hang out in one of the fields by the neighborhoods instead." You tried a little hard to change plans, but the young teen had an undying determination in his face.

"No way, bro! I didn't come all this way to puss out!"

He refused any ideas of leaving this place for another. You stayed put and tried cupping your hands on the windows to see in better. It was still useless. They were too tinted.

"Here, I'll go in and check things out. If I come bursting through the doors, you'll know to run with me and get the hell outta here. If I come and get you, then you'll know everything's cool. Sound good?" He planned. A small knot formed in your stomach, but you didn't want to seem like a coward.

"Sounds cool." You finally agreed.

Pleased with the cooperation, he gave an intense smile; the typical rebel smile.

He finally pulled on the heavyish doors. The cool temperature inside blew out like an icy breeze, sending goosebumps onto every inch of your body. You took a step to the side and away from the opening doors.

You may have been subconsciously forming your own safety net. You wouldn't look inside when the doors were opening, you didn't want to reveal yourself just in case this kid was to get in trouble. If an angry confrontation was heard you just may ditch him and save your own ass from having to deal with your parents getting called along with your school; the good old every-man-for-himself plan.

Two minutes. Nothing.

Five minutes. Nothing.

Staring down at the gravel, you began randomly counting to keep patience levels down.

Seven minutes. Nothing. 

_What in the hell was taking him so long??_

Surely he would've found things out by now?

Ten minutes had passed since he had gone inside. Not a word from him.

What if everything he thought was true... _And he no longer wanted to include you in the indulgence of free pizza and candy?_ What if he was now testing to see if you'd come in yourself before letting you partake in the fun activities? He may want to see if you were some punk who was too afraid go in.

Mild anger swept over and you put both your hands back on the door's glass. One slid down and grabbed a hold of the handle. Your innards were coiling. So bad you wanted to pull on the door and stomp in, but the rest of you screamed to stay outside.

The same hand slightly shook, and one by one your fingers let go of the handle. The sudden thought of him bursting through the doors and possibly trampling you also came to mind. You moved away and stood a bit far from the exits. It refilled all patience and you prepped for any possible outcome once more.

Several minutes passed, and soon several more.

In total it had been over twenty minutes and still nothing. There had to be some reason why he wasn't coming out... It shouldn't be taking him this long. A proper response would've been to just go inside and see what was going on, but something within insisted you just didn't.

Was there perhaps another way?

You chewed on your lip and looked around the building.

_What about the back?_

You were hesitant at first. You didn't want to go back there and have the kid come out and not see his partner. But it would't hurt to just take a quick look...

You sprinted down the side of the large restaurant. Before making it there was an odd sound emitted. It sounded like something large landing on several different objects at once. Like...crushing.

_He must've been around the corner._

Your insides heated up with anger again as you got ready to confront him.

"Hey! What the hell took you so long! I was waiting for—" You turned the corner and instantly stopped, every ounce of anger freezing over.

You saw a dumpster and...a yellow Bonnie right next to it. He seemed to be looking into it...or something along that nature. The yellow rabbit quickly turned around from the sound of your angry voice and locked gazes. Even though you couldn't fully see them they seemed to have a wild look burning into their pupils. But after those same eyes took a minute to scan you, they softened. The giant rabbit began to walk forward. You said nothing during this time. 

"Oh, why howdy there!" The Bonnie said in his southern voice.

Your courage returned.

"You don't have to talk to me like that. Do I look like I'm seven to you?" You gave whoever was in the suit your fiery attitude.

They had nothing to say to this.

The "Bonnie" was quiet.

"Where's my friend?" You asked.

"I sent him home. I told him to go back to school like a good kid. Which is what you should do, too." The Bonnie answered, this time in a more normal voice. You could tell it was slightly forced in a certain pitch.

"But I don't want to. I want to hang out here." You answered, though technically this wasn't the truth, but the maturing side of you was challenging their authority. The Bonnie walked even closer and was soon staring you down. The eyes were dark, but still merciful.

"I'm sorry, kid. You're just not ready yet." The voice was lower now, dissolving your courage.

_Ready? Ready for what?_

"Go on. Get outta here." He encouraged, and you found yourself obeying completely without anymore questions, taking a few steps back and turning around and running off back in the direction of where you came.

You weren't too sure where the other kid went. There was no way he could've left through the entrance as you were there the whole time... Perhaps he was escorted out in the back by "Bonnie" and that's why the rabbit was still outside? It was still puzzling on why he never came back for you. Maybe he had the same every-man-for-himself plan as you did. It could only be this.

But if there was one thing most interesting about this experience, it was that you swore "Bonnie" had muttered your name before you ran off...


	38. Beautiful life

Peter set a couple of clear bottles down on the Corner's counter.

"What's _that_? You gonna pour soda for some kids?" You joked.

He grinned and shook his head.

"Dude, we're in **public**!" Your demeanor changed when realizing the bottle's contents were anything but kid-safe. The restaurant was only an hour away from closing, but business hours were business hours.

"So?" He said without giving a single fuck. Unsurprisingly.

"Are you planning on getting shit-faced again?" 

"This good stuff will get consumed, yes. But not by me this time." He answered. 

"It's  _your_ turn, Puppet." He revealed.

"What?"

"And don't try feeding me any excuses. I know you love alcohol, just like every other wannabe rebel your age."

"You do realize there are still people out there? Children. What do you plan on doing if I start behaving like _you_ did last time?" You asked.

"You aren't buzzed yourself, are you?" You added.

"Nah. I had my fun. Now it's your turn. Like I said." He pushed again and drew closer.

"I'm not ready to just down booze. Never really am." You stated.

"That's why you downed the alcohol I gave you as Fredbear so fast." He said, smirking cleverly at the memory.

A corrosive shame hit your gut, but you insisted on not being interested.

"I don't want to get wasted."

"Who said you were? I only want you to have a few swigs. I didn't say have the whole bottle." He kept his lips curled upwards, but you could hear his bits of displeasure.

"Also, think of it as a celebration of Beth's departure." He suddenly said.

You picked your head up.

"She actually _quit_??" You asked a bit too eagerly. Everybody who was anybody in this place would rejoice in hearing such words.

"Canned her last night." He revealed.

"That's interesting, considering she tried getting the same thing to happen to **me**." You said whilst smirking behind the mask. Zan had warned you about this danger that didn't exist so many times.

"Yeahh... She was getting a little too...curious." Peter's sharp grin lowered to discontent, his eyes shone a bit darker than usual. The woman must've become suspicious, just like Zan. Only difference was that Zan eventually let things go whereas Beth must've taken things to the next level until it was no longer acceptable by Peter.

"So who's gonna be your manager now?"

"I'll figure that out later. Anywho..." He pushed the bottles closer, renewing all focus.

"And to make things easier I brought you something else to help water it down." He put a bottle of actual soda on the counter next.

 _There's no saying_ no _is there?_ You guessed before taking one of the bottles. To get things started, he didn't leave until you had already consumed a few shots-worth.

With each swig putting a thicker cap on common sense and judgement, there was no avoiding the inevitable. As soon as closing came around you were hammered. Peter had sent his employees home early (for some reason) and finished all their work himself. Though, surprisingly, he had no regrets.

You stayed sitting at a table he already cleaned off while battling tipsiness (and doing a terrible job).

_So much for just a few swigs._

"Thought you said you wouldn't let me get all drunk..." You said, but didn't have any hard feelings at the moment.

"I like surprising you with things." He answered. He hopped onto the stage and began wiping down the animatronics.

"Pfff. Surprise? You can't surprise me anymore..." You blurted out with no control.

He glanced the party tables, his eye area darkened by the low support of light.

"You don't think so?" He asked. He seemed to have taken some kind of offense you were completely ignorant to.

"I know so." You replied before he even finished the last word to his question.

He kept his back to you, making no movement. It looked as if he was pretending to be one of the motionless animatronics.

"Sorry Peeeet. You've kidnapped me, turned me into some living character... seduced me, beat me, and let's not leave out..MURDERED in front of me. What more can you do to me? My guess is nothing. You CAN'T surprise me anymore, bruh..." You slurred.

"I can torture you in other ways. I can stretch your sanity to its brink. You haven't seen anything yet, Puppet." He replied casually.

"Doubt it." You responded immediately. You would've fallen to your knees in supplication for forgiveness if you were sober and aware of what had just left your mouth.

There was a long silence, but with your system under a different temporary control, you felt no awkwardness. You only stared at him while he stood immobile on the stage.

"You look stupid like that. Now YOU'RE a character." You said, spitting out a few laughs.

"What are you doing anyways? You finished wiping them off. Come on down." You told him.

"I'm looking." He replied, not budging an inch.

"At what?" 

"Something that's always been important to me." He responded.

"Those shitbags of oily bolts are important to you? They're disgusting." You said.

"Puppet..." He called.

"Uh...yea?" 

"Come here." He asked gently. 

"Why?" Yet another response the sober side wouldn't have agreed with at all. He never appreciated being questioned like this. When he asked for something done, he wanted it **done**.

"I want to show you something. Something important. I just want you to see this." He explained.

 _If only you had been in the right mind_. Perhaps then you would've sensed something off.

You sat stupidly for a second and stood up, stretching every limb while doing so.

"Alright..." You responded.

By now all judgement and common sense was washed away. It would not be amiss to say you would've answered his call, but you would've been more cautious. A distance also would've been kept when approaching him, especially with how calm he was being right now. Hell, nothing would've been said to trigger him in the first place.

You staggered and wobbled through the party tables, hitting a few of their corners and knocking the fixed hats out of place. Upon reaching the stage you pathetically put both your arms onto its floor, grabbing on like it was some edgy, steep cliff you had to carefully climb for the sake of your life. Your palms lightly screeched, streaking the recently-cleaned apron with prints as you took longer than it should've for any sober person to hop on. Or in this case climb on.

Peter was still static in his spot, ignoring how completely frivolous you looked when making your treacherous climb on a cringe-worthy time. There was maybe a second where his eyes tautened in annoyance to the sound of your squeaking palms, but he reset his facial expressions before you managed to pull yourself up beside him. As soon as you stood tall all balance failed, and you gasped. He held his hand out and pushed you back to proper footing before you could fall backward off the edge.

"Thanks." You grinned and giggled.

He said nothing in return.

"Okay... What are you wanting me to look at again?" You asked, trying not to lose balance a second time without even moving.

Peter put a hand on your shoulder and leaned in close.

"I want you to look at his eyes; Freddy's."

This was a bizarre request.

"I usually prefer to not be anywhere near these things in general. Just saying." You responded.

"Just look into them." He ignored the comment and encouraged further. You reluctantly moved your heavy eyes and locked vision with the large bear, peering into the lit up orbs that almost seemed to illuminate in the faint darkness.

With this being the first time in getting a very long and good look at them, the excessive details jumped out, making you see how "fake" they really were, but if one thing was even remotely fascinating, it was how they still looked new compared to the rest of the bear's features. The paint on the white orbs was still decent, showing off a nice shade of deep blue and there were even white spots to resemble sparkling. 

Despite the impressive artwork the black pupils were still a literal window to the endoskeleton. Deep in the small black holes were tiny lights, connected to the bones. It was creepy to think that behind all the soft plates was an actual metal skeleton.

"Okay. I'm looking. What about them?" You asked, losing more interest in this weird task as the seconds passed.

"Good. Now what do you see? Tell me." He kept going.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the heavy stupor so your focus could be better. You rubbed your eyes, even. When taking another glance nothing new or different caught your attention. The only thing you noticed now was the dingy material around the eye sockets.

"Very dirty fabric." You sneered.

"The **eyes** , Puppet. Focus again." He finally started to show a hint of vexation, but kept most of it at bay.

"Well...um...what do  _you_ see?" You retaliated to keep the pressure off. It was more of a sarcastic move, but he took it seriously.

"I see life. Beautiful life. And...the magnificent feeling that fills me with a profound happiness." He answered almost too emotionally. You didn't expect such a response.

"Fuck, WHO'S the drunk one here again?" You gave a smug grin without looking at him.

"It's more beautiful than any art or poetry I could ever view." He repeated.

"That's definitely not what _I_ see." You said.

"Oh wait, I DO see a small light in the back of them. But I guess that has to do with their mechanics or something." You added.

"You just haven't looked into them long enough." He said.

"Not long enough to see it all... and to feel those sacred emotions..." He continued. 

"Guess I haven't. I'm sure if I stayed long enough something may come to mind..." You didn't have a real response to his strange love towards these machines. They were as insentient and prosaic as ever. You tried speaking again, but the alcohol was descending you further into a black, serene unconsciousness. 

"You struggling? Lemme help you stand there..." 

You never heard the words.


	39. The puppet hangs

You were slow in opening your eyes and the first thing to hit was vertigo. 

Your neck was sore. You rolled it, cracking joints and stretching muscles. As for your body, it may as well have been numb, but at the same time, not. So far all seemed normal, everything except for your arms; they had no feeling to speak of.

You thought Peter had dragged you back to the isolated Room. It would explain why everything was dark. This assumption was rectified when registering it was the puppet mask dimming things.  

 _When the hell was_ this _put on?_

But this was the least of your worries. When your eyes adjusted and you picked your head up, it was noticed that Freddy was in front of you. You tried straightening out and subsequently heard sounds of clanging metal. Terror rose up.

You moved your triceps and the blood slowly began to properly flow back to your neglected arms. Looking at them further revealed the appalling truth; They were up. You wrists were being clasps by metal and—

_You were hanging!_

By shackles and chains.

Your brain was in a state of shock, going through the few uncanny but normal moments of eery calmness as reality took its time to sink through. Then you flailed again, causing more light rustling from the links.

The wonder of how these came to be on you in the first place sprouted next. Peter had to have put them on your wrists when you blacked out...

That man had definitely proven his point on having the ability to still surprise you, but was _this_  entirely necessary? And... _how the hell did he set all this shit up?!_

You gazed up at the stage ceiling, but everything was too dim. He somehow managed to install link chains, perhaps by using the old hooks the stage once used for its curtains ages ago. The other question was... _Where the hell did he **get** them?_

So you were hanging by the wrists, almost in a Y position, although you weren't too high off the ground. In fact, the tips of your feet were still able to touch the stage floor.

You shifted, using one foot to grip the sleek floor and turn your body partially around. Only the closed scarlet curtains stared back at you. He had basically locked you in with the stage and its crew.

First thing that came to mind was to call out, even though you already knew the predictable outcome. He probably wasn't even in the damn building!

Knowing it was useless, you remained silent.

This entire scene resembled some kind of medieval punishment, the prisoner hanging from chains and waiting hopelessly on the next round of torture, exactly what your mind was preparing for.

What was to come next? What did Peter think he would achieve from this?

 _"I can torture you in other ways...I can stretch your sanity to its brink!"_ His stale words from earlier had another go.

"So that's what you're trying to do?" You whispered to the recent memory.

_NO!_

You wouldn't let this fucked up situation screw with you. All you had to do was stay calm. Stay calm until morning. How hard would it be?

 _Just stay calm._ You repeated several times and eventually tilted your head back to try and relax.

 _You aren't going to accomplish anything with this, Peter..._ You thought.

 _You're just making yourself stretch your_ own _sanit—_

Something scurrying through the dining area. You jerked your head back forward and looked around the stage as best as possible, despite the tiny spacing. Then you froze and muted yourself. You weren't entirely positive, but you _thought_ there was a lone noise of something being dragged across the restaurant's carpet. 

But only for a second.

This time you attempted to speak, but only expelled a short breath. A light creak on the stage. It came from in front of you, completely unseen.

You stared straight ahead at the animatronics, more so Freddy than the others. The noise sounded like the groan of old wood reaching its weight limit. But the only weight on here were the characters'. You couldn't even locate where the sound exactly came from, only that it was near the band.

Your vision migrated up to Freddy's eyes, and stopped. Even with dimmed lighting from the mask, his eyes were still vibrant and pierced right through the black material making up the puppet's eye sockets. His pupils were locked straight onto yours.

 _No...he wasn't staring at you, it just LOOKED that way!_ You silently screamed, but your own eyes didn't leave the cobalt blue ones that seemed to be pinned directly on their target.

 _"I see beautiful life..."_ More of Peter's deranged speech made its way into your noggin. You tossed your head, desperately trying to rid yourself of the building psychosis. These things weren't alive in any way... they were just a bag of rusted bolts whose programming only went so far. None of them were aware of your existence and that you were suspended right in front of them.

 _"Just look into them."_ The mental speech kept overriding your focus. You jerked again, causing the links to rustle slightly. You couldn't simply turn your head and look away from it all night. With how you were positioned it wouldn't be possible. The only direction to look was forward.

Your head lowered, but the glowing blue orbs called you back. A part of your brain implored you to stop, but you locked sights with the bear once more.

_"Tell me what you see."_

The request from hours ago now seemed much more fervent than imaginable. You stared without blinking for over a minute. Possibly two. It was hypnotic. The blue eyes seemed to get more lambent as time went on. You finally broke it off and scrutinized other things, anything to not have to stare at Freddy.

As stupid as it was to miss, you just noticed the animatronics were sitting up straight instead of their usual slump. It would've been better if you knew they were turned all the way off, but it was disquieting to know they could technically move at any given moment. 

 _"They come to life at night and kill anyone that's inside!"_ This time it wasn't Peter's words that abused your psyche. Like some kind of mental vampire, old memories began gnawing and sucking out the most basic understanding and logic from your cranium, making you question everything around.

These things were weren't capable of such actions... But the more you took notice in the giant bear's endoskeleton eyes, the more they resembled a predator's, lying in wait until the right moment to strike.

_"And some people say that you can still see the old blood stains on their bodies if you look reeeeaaal hard enough!"_

Autopilot sought to find out the truth, and you began to examine every inch of Freddy. His fabric was of course dirty and dingy, but there _were_ questionable spots on him that made your chest sink. They were dark stains.

A few on his legs and then some on his arms and...around his mouth. You thought back to a terribly old rumor of Freddy crushing a boy's head with his jaws. However, the teeth on the suit were harmless... they were made from the same fabric. But the same couldn't be said for the endoskeleton's teeth sticking out pretty far. Even with coverage on your eyes you could see the metallic gleam. Those could do quite some damage... Were _they_ responsible for these stains?

 _No..._ The marks on the fabric were of something else, not blood. They were just oil stains and dirt, added up over the years and were there longer than you've even been alive. Nothing spooky or scary about it...

 _They're just dirty ROBOTS, **[First Name]**! _ You reasoned with your fear until there was another noise outside the curtains again. It definitely sounded like running feet. You turned your head again. It seemed to have come from near the pirate cove.

_Could it have been..._

Was Foxy walking around? Although it was on the list of obscure possibilities, it still didn't make much sense. Why would he be walking around? Why would Peter have taken him off the stage? You slowly took apart your own theory. It couldn't have been the fox, otherwise you would've heard more noises from the metal joints. And he couldn't have scampered that fast.

Could he?

_If the fox was truly active, he would've been talking by now._

The absence of an **ARRRGH**  backed up this theory. You were in a temporary relief until your pulse jumped again. The original noise had repeated itself. 

It was too small to have been an animatronic. And there were no noises that would indicate an actual person, such as fabric from clothes or jingling of keys, not even breathing. It had to have all been in your head...

And you were just about done with hanging helplessly.

With adrenaline coming to aid, you pulled on the chains several more times. It was all a waste.

But you wouldn't be giving up easily. If Peter could slip chain links on the stage's old hooks, you could slip them off...

You gripped onto the stage with the tip of your foot and pushed yourself, feeling almost mortified for having to swing for freedom. After three attempts, you were as far as the chains would let you physically travel, which unfortunately wasn't enough. The furthest had you dangerously close to Freddy, and the image of him suddenly springing to life and lashing out flashed in your mind when your face made close contact with his chest.

You peeped a yelp of fear and threw your body back the best you could while digging both tips of your feet onto the stage and breaking, goosebumps forming. You shivered from a few chills while your heart rattled inside its ribcage, causing your breathing to thicken horribly and spew out muffled gasps.

Your senses couldn't decide on what was there and what wasn't, your psyche mutating into a distortion. You felt like some sacrifice being gifted to these things and were just waiting for them to take the offer. Psychosis filled your head like a flood. Your pupils grew and shrank, face whitening when noticing the stage seemed to be shrinking. You were somehow closer to the animatronics, and you looked up to see Freddy's eyes widened and threaded with red lines.

_They were bloodshot!_

No longer were they simple and plastic with painted white shine marks. They looked _so_ fucking realistic...they even had a glaze over them with a wet consistency. 

"It's not real..." You whispered again with shaky breath. You tore your hazed vision to the other band members, Bonnie first. You nearly choked when seeing the rabbit's head shifted with his eyes pinned on you instead of looking forward—Chica's as well.

The lights above the stage buzzed for a couple seconds, and then blinked. During that time of less than a millisecond, the stage's details changed before your eyes. Everything was rusted and torn apart. The wall curtain behind the animatronics was shredded, exposing the door behind it. The light bulbs were busted with glass sprinkled all over the dusty, pale floor. The animatronics themselves—

_Oh God..._

They were the things you hallucinated long ago; Bonnie's missing face and arm, Chica's missing hands and disfigured beak. Freddy just withering away...and they were all staring at you with glaring, glowing eyes. You pulled until both your wrists stung and could no longer be felt. Then everything in front of you was suddenly orderly once more.

Your eyes felt like they were having a seizure as they ripped from one spot to another when scrutinizing everything. The one aspect to stand out—and hadn't changed—was the bear's irritated eyes.

All other noises in the dark restaurant ceased when Freddy's ancient, almost never-used toreador tune began playing, and you finally released the built-up long awaited yell from your over-panicked system.


	40. Strings

It was partially dark when opening your yes. All your senses returned rather fast and you picked your head up and felt a chagrined misery to still be staring at the Fazbear band. Until you were falling onto the stage floor in a heap.

Like a baby giraffe, the physical shock of your body coming in harsh contact with the floor kicked life back into you. You coughed a few times and stretched every limb, becoming familiar with them again while looking around. The chains had snapped apparently, but you were still left with shackles on both your wrists.

But that was okay. As long as you were freed.

Turning around, relief overwhelmed your system when seeing the curtains open, and you nearly groaned from alleviation. Belatedly, you finally rose and were careful in climbing down the stage, not glancing back at the stationary animatronics. The connected chain links rattled as they slid off the apron and were dragged behind like lifeless serpents. Light spilled through the open exit doors; it was morning.

But why were they open in the first place? Was Peter doing something outside?

You made your sluggish way over, not bothering to take off the mask—it'd do well in blocking your unprepared eyes from sunlight. That and he probably wouldn't want it off, anyway. You were a little inquisitive about the reaction he may spawn when noticing your chains damaged and dragging.

_Ohwell. It's what he gets for doing this shit in the first place._

When outside everything looked normal. It was quiet, parking lot empty. Only thing strange was having the doors open. Before you thought about returning inside, you saw two figures running from the direction of the field on the side of Fazbear's restaurant. It was too late to go in without being seen, but you noticed the duo were boys.

No, teenagers. Young teenagers. One of them looked—

_Was...was that YOU?_

You didn't mistaken yourself. Yet another event that defied logic, but on a much different level.

This was some kind of glitch in the matrix!

The other kid looked just as familiar, neither of them saying anything to you. They didn't even acknowledge your presence despite being in front of them.

"Shit kid, you're fast!" The older one said.

Forget deja vu, there wasn't really a name for **this**!

You watched the scene you had been in years ago replay with you as a third person-viewer, too dumbfounded to say anything to grab their attention.

 _Maybe...maybe they weren't really there._ Maybe this was just some side-effect of the hell you went through last night. Maybe you were just staunchly hallucinating an old memory due to your mind snapping.

The two carried on their plans to go inside. It all certainly looked real enough in your eyes... The older boy pushed on the door—somehow closed, now—next to you.

As if someone had taken the ends of the chains and heaved, you were suddenly yanked in the boy's direction. Only they weren't chains anymore; they were string; wrapped around both your wrists and dragging you after the boy. You gasped while being violently controlled by some unknown force. Not expecting the tug, you had fallen to your knees and were pulled like this as you "followed" the kid inside, your knees burning, and the restaurant lights now on. He eventually stopped, and so did you... _and you still couldn't see what the hell was pulling_. The strings went through the walls and ceiling like phantoms.

The kid inspected, slightly disappointed as no one seemed to be here. Not an employee in sight.

"Uhh...anyone in here?" He called out. You tried communicating verbally in some way, but your body was unresponsive. It felt like a bad sleep paralysis. He looked ready to sprint back to the exits when a yellow Bonnie came walking out the kitchen, almost looking as bewildered as the kid.

"Holy shit!" The kid spat out, caught off guard and not expecting a walking suit to appear. The "Bonnie" was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Hellooo! What are YEW doing here?" The voice too familiar.

"I'm here for free pizza and soda. What else?" The bold teen stated his business, almost seeming sarcastic. He was amused by the act being put on for him, but was still ready to haul-ass if need be.

"Hmmmm, normally that's against the rules, but hey, yer the only one here. So why don't I go ahead and grant yer wish?" The yellow rabbit offered.

"How do I know I'm not being punked?" The kid asked.

The rabbit let out a goofy laugh. You could see the small eyes— _human_ eyes—way back in the sockets of the face, glimmering with mad excitement. Either the kid didn't notice or didn't care.

"Alright, I'll show yew the pizzas I have in here. And the drinks tew. It's the kitchen after all!"

The kid followed him in, and you were dragged along with. He walked to a far corner, spying the premade pizzas ready to be cooked.

"Shiiit...my friends were right. This is awesome!" He proclaimed as he inspected a few frozen dishes. 

"Oh yes...But you should've stayed in school, buddy." Bonnie told him, accent dying away mid-sentence.

"Pfff! Why would I have wanted to do THAT?" The teen asked, still looking at different pizza choices. Bonnie was moving toward him without his knowledge, something gleaming in his hand.

"NO!!" You were finally able to yell, but may as well be mute still. The actions carried on.

The rabbit grabbed the kid by his head, pulling it back and plunging a large carving knife into his neck before he could even gasp.

The young teen hacked, and then a gagged gurgle.

"Because. You would've **lived**." The rabbit said, but in that infamous voice you were so used to hearing.

The teen reached up at the rabbit's face area, desperately trying to fight off his attacker, but it would do him no good. Bonnie dragged him out the kitchen, and off you followed. Life was fading from his eyes as his mouth silently formed the first half of your name, but trailed off to nothing. His neck was a fountain, but the fluids never touched the arm of the suit. They trailed down the kid's chest and caked onto his clothing while the rabbit whisked him away to a part of the building you knew all too well by now.

You were pulled to the scene and in the very Room that practically had your name on it. The rabbit was gone, the teen in a corner, slumped and lifeless in the gloom.

This is when you noticed there were **more** strings attached; attached to your arms. You could feel them pull your muscles as if they were as much a part of your anatomy as your bones and organs. The dim bulbs flipped on, displaying the dead boy in better lighting. His head was down, face not visible, but you certainly saw the red moat on his chest. It had traveled far, revealing the boy had lived through this longer than originally thought.

The strings yanked you to another side of the room, introducing the heads of several characters stacked neatly in a corner. Most were in pieces and incomplete, but there was one Freddy head looking perfect and ready for a body. The strings commanded both your arms and you found yourself picking up the large Freddy head, unable to let go. You were dragged back to the lifeless body and your arms stuck out, offering the animatronic piece to the kid, who obviously wouldn't respond. 

 _What the hell is this suppose to—_  

You were made to move forward, and your hands and fingers worked against every will in your body. The back of the bear head pressed onto the boy's forehead with enough force to push it back against the wall. You now got to see how horrible his neck lesion was. The exposed meat and muscle gleamed in the poor light, making you almost sick. Peter had a fucked-up fascination with cutting deep...

Your hands readied the Freddy head and slid it over the boy's own. You had honestly expected it to fit easily without fuss since the thing was much larger. But this wasn't the case. You had forgotten about the "mechanics" inside the soft cranium; all the wiring and hooks.

 _No, don't..._ You begged your own limbs to not, and your hands pushed down hard on Freddy, _forcing_ it to devour the teen's head. You heard the queasy noises of stiff bones and cartilage crack and succumb to the measurements as Freddy's cranium met the boy's shoulders inch by inch.

So badly you wanted to look away, but it seems that more phantom strings had attached to not only your arms, but to your face as well. You _couldn't_ look away... you were forced to watch yourself perform this gruesome act.

The new head was finally settled onto the teen's body perfectly. It all looked grotesque, straight from a kid's nightmare. Freddy's cheerful head on top of a dead body. A trail of red and clear fluid sweated out from behind the vibrant blue eyes and trickled down the sockets with more to come.

Even after seeing Him kill in front of you, the gore was still too much, and you were finally able to squeeze your burning eyes shut in a cringe fit.

Light was glowing through your closed lids, and you tore them back open to see the Fazbear band on stage, staring back as you were hanging in front of them.


	41. Connected

They showed no expressions yet their faces were the quality of great abhor and agony. They said no words but a brew of voices ricocheted from everywhere. From a distance it looked as if tears trailed out their eyes, but give a closer inspection and it would be noted that the crying was not normal salty fluid. The same mysterious moisture ran down the jaws, creating a glossy furnish after seeping for so long. Keep a distance, because none of this could compare to the aroma.

As the liquid trailing out the facial orifices darkened to an almost chocolate color, like a melted candy bar, the fragrance worsened. If there was a miasma visible to the naked eye, one might imagine it to be the swampy green color typically used to fit something so putrid. Or maybe a foggy orange.

Be it these things _represented_ so much decay and death, they could never mean something more alive. What was inside was alive and strong, and each one had its purpose—

* * *

 

"Fun night, eh?"

His voice. 

Your eyes opened halfway, taking in the surroundings; _real_ surroundings this time. You were still on stage but no longer chained. He'd taken the shackles off and was keeping you from meeting the floor before the rest of your body could wake up. The needle sensation of blood returning violated your arms and hands. In no way was it remotely pleasant.

"The best thing about this is that...Now you can see what _I_ see." He stated lowly in your ear while making you look at the immobile Freddy one last time.

The bear and rest of the band were completely normal; not an ounce of anything out the ordinary, and certainly nothing you saw the night before. Just ordinary old tattered robots. This didn't mean you would be forgetting anything that  _was_ seen hours ago, whether real or not...

Still recovering from such an event, there weren't really any words of angry retaliation for the man who forced this hellish session. You allowed him to physically manipulate you while your body eventually woke up and stood on its own. You drowned out his mockery of how you must've had an interesting time while staring at the bear before the both of you.

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy behind the mask. Imagining their terrible condition made a realization of how "connected" you suddenly were with the bear.

With your psyche broken like a bunch of corrupted computer files, you knew that on some higher, supernatural level, Freddy's own eyes were still irritated themselves behind the vibrant plastic ones. You remembered how red and real they looked, and the image would never go away.

Despite the sheer terror experienced, a phenomenon of mutual respect between you and the bear arose, and whatever fear you had with the animatronics here was now put to an unforeseen rest. You and what was supposed to be an inanimate object now seemed to have some sort of deep understanding for each other.

They were all controlled by Peter. Whatever movements he wanted from them he would make happen. He had full control; just like the control he had over you. You were no different than one of these performing machines on stage. Whether it was machine or flesh, you were connected with all of them. Like a true puppet... and he was pulling the strings.

_So, why weren't you doing anything about it?_

There were always certain questions sounding so simple but had an opposite complexity; the "easier said than done".

 _You just couldn't._  

It was the only answer found. You just couldn't find yourself revolting and stopping everything going on.

You felt like you belonged and didn't want to leave. Every event that's happened here dominated over your old life. Your original lifestyle lost its worth in trying to recover. Leaving this life would be like reaching into your body and ripping out a vital organ needed for survival. It was all a part of you.

With all this being said, you had no plans in stopping the mad ideas Peter came up with, but even with accepting them, you still had triggers in response _to_ them. With the drowsiness leaving and both your arms gaining their strength back, you grabbed the mask and ripped it off your face, managing to snap one of the straps. You threw it aside and pushed Him away with your other arm.

"Aww, you're upset." He teased.

Most of the time your frustration gave him mirth. He quite enjoyed seeing your mood fire up, because he could always toy with it. No matter how angry you got he'd still win in every situation. Of course there's always the chance of hitting him so you could satisfy  **some** irritation (at least that's how the plan went in your head), but that'd just lead to the situation becoming much worse.

You could hit, so could he, and your damage was nothing compared to what _he_ could do. This was easily forgettable when angry, but the look in his eyes were enough to give you a quick reminder. He wouldn't one up your ire with his own, but he'd look rather gaiety. It would be a flicker of fascination in his shadowy eyes, and maybe if your hands were clenched into fists, his lips would quirk:

 _Go ahead, Puppet. Hit. You'll get what you give, but tenfold. You don't wanna see what I can do when I_ really _put effort into it._

All this would project from him, and you'd find yourself walking away as far as possible—the best thing you could come up with. It was always better to walk away unscathed but still able to dish out a few words, putting a band-aid on your ego.

"Fucking right I am." You growled in reply, leaping off the stage but barely landing safely.

With your body gross from the major sweat fest hours ago, there was only one priority. Unfortunately you weren't able to tend to everything. The Room door was closed, leaving you with the option to clean your face and not your whole body.

Taking what you could get, you entered the men's restroom and turned on one of the sinks to full blast. After splashing your face several times, you blinked your eyes and stared at them through the mirror.

 _Yep_.

Your initial thoughts were correct; there was redness everywhere. A sudden flash of Freddy's bloodshot eyes took over the mirror. You recoiled in fear, but met with your normal image right after.

You jumped again when the door swung open. Peter came in and peered at your reflection. You turned and looked at his physical being over your shoulder as opposed to meeting the gaze of his reversed self on glass.

"If you want to get clean, all you have to say is, 'Peter, I want to go and wash up.'" He said, drawing close.

You had no problem waiting until he granted access later. _You weren't going to request his permission for it!_

His hand slithered toward your neck and grabbed your chin, making sure you couldn't look away.

"Why? I'm not the tied up bitch I once was." You referred back to when you were still "new" and he'd make you speak however he wanted. As far as you knew, this certain phase was over.

"Because I  **want** you to say it." He replied.

"And...you could honestly use it. The shower." He sneered, not ignoring how greasy your hair had become, along with the stale musk evident to your pores spilling a cold sweat during those terrifying hours.

"I'm sorry, a boss of mine was attempting some mental shock treatment on me." You shot back, and his fingers tightened, leaving crescent marks in your skin. 

There would be only one way out of this. 

"Peter...I want to go and wash up." You snorted in-between the sentence and glared when repeating what was on script. 

He released and exited the bathroom.

"Make it fast. I want you back out before the employees start getting here. I don't expect you to do much but I don't want you absent either." He laid out the plans for today when unlocking the door.

_Fuck, it was earlier than you thought._

A huge weight fell on your shoulders. All that and he still wanted you out and around people right after? If anything you just wanted to pass out for the rest of the day, not to mention you were entirely paranoid.

 _No shit! Mind torturing can be so exhausting!_ The dark humor sprang back up, making you smirk, then frown. You hadn't really thought that one up on your own. It just kind of...happened. Like some form of autopilot.

You shook it off and got to starting a shower. When you were finished and putting on a new set of clothes, a stinging itch was felt on both your wrists. Closer inspection revealed red cuts that must've happened when you were in a frantic mode, trying to squeeze out of the shackles. They were still sensitive to touch.

You secured your belt and opened the large door, unintentionally inviting in Peter, who was standing there at the right moment.

 _Now_ he looked pissed.

"Put this back on. And  **don't** break it again." He ordered, shoving the puppet mask in your chest.

"Right." You said and obeyed.

"And get a move on. Few of the staff are already parking and walking up." He rushed you out to the dining area, making sure no one suspected you actually living here. You peered over at the entrance and saw Zan and the girl who helped you out on your "first day", confirming Peter's words to be true.

"Tell them you were cleaning the stages." He said and left for his office, refusing to greet his employees. The two were laughing and the chatter spilled into the restaurant once Zan pulled open the last door and allowed her to go first like a gentlemen. They looked a little astounded when they saw you.

"I TOLD you! He's ALWAYS here first!" He declared to his coworker, who looked like she was eating her words.

"What in the world are you doing here so early?" She asked, bewildered.

"Cleaning the stages." You used Peter's excuse as directed.

"Oh. That sucks. So do you like...walk here? I don't see any other cars." She asked.

"Yup, he does. He told me that one time." Zan answered for you.

"Also, y'know I'll always give you those rides if you ever need them." He added.

"That's okay. I enjoy walking. The folks prefer it that way anyway. Tough love y'know..." You came up with a reply and headed toward the kitchen in response to a parched throat. You hadn't gotten a drink since the ordeal, which took plenty out of you.

* * *

 

The other staff didn't seem to like it, but Peter kept to his word on not caring about you sitting around the whole day. It was several hours passed opening when both your wrists started stinging again.

 _You had to patch them up._ Otherwise they may bleed again.

It was never a smart move to bother Him, so you found the only person who'd converse without an attitude. Zan was preparing a tray of drinks for a birthday table when you approached.

"Hey, do we have like a medical kit or something?" 

"Huh?" He didn't hear part of the question.

"Medical kit. Band-aids. Do we have any of that?"

"We have peroxide and band-aids. But we don't have any medication if that's what you're looking for." He answered, finishing the last cup.

"Both will work. I need them." You said. Band-aids were enough, peroxide was even better.

"You okay?" He asked with slight concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanna deal with it before too long." 

He set everything down and went to grab what was needed.

"Thanks." You said after receiving them, and off he went to deliver the tray of sodas.

 _This is gonna suck_.

You braced yourself for even worse stinging about to come. You wetted paper towels and soaked them on each wrist, gritting your teeth in pain.

 _It's just cleaning it. It's a GOOD thing that it hurts._ You said to yourself so the pain would subside faster. Just then Peter walked into the kitchen, catching you off guard since he rarely left his office during business hours. He noticed you bandaging up your wrists and chortled.

"Well, aren't _you_ a wild one..." He commented before picking up a random tool by one of the pans and leaving.

 ** _Yeah, some would call it a fetish._**  Your mind went rogue with a random comment again.

"The hell?" You whispered at the strange thought. Your head felt the sensation of being underwater for less than a minute. 

 ** _There might be a point where you'll WANT the shackles again!_**  

"Shut up!" You resorted to an unusual way of disciplining yourself.

"Whoa! Who are you talking to??" Zan came back in the middle of your bark.

"No one." 


	42. Voices

So he had no problem with breaking your sanity, causing you to listen to rogue thoughts and then acting like nothing happened the very next day, or at least thinking it was no big deal. That much was relevant. What wasn't relevant was what you may have to listen to when dealing with Victor again since he decided to kick you over to Candy's for the night.

It would be another set of long hours dealing with unimportant talk coming from Peter's lesser, who was also a drug addict. You had prepared for the silent ride that would be all but calm and cozy due to the eerie quiet, but this time was a little different. Peter had gifted a cancer stick and lit it up for you to enjoy on the way. Smoking gave a reminder that you haven't had one in quite a while but the addiction was still very much alive.

Luck may have been on your side, for Victor had yet to say even two words to you. He was sucking on his own cigarette—may as well have been a cigar with how much thick, toxic smoke it was producing—while he stayed in the office and shuffled through several papers.

 _Sorting them, perhaps?_ It was unclear, but you didn't plan on hanging around him to find out. You only wished the office's large peep-hole window could be covered up.

Since you weren't at Freddy's there was a desire to embrace the short-term freedom of roaming around without getting yanked back by Peter. But this plan ran into a snag due to Victor's visual access to anything going on in the hallway. You hated being watched; who in the hell didn't?

_So looks like it was back to being imprisoned in a single room._

With much dismay, you found a seat in the party room holding Candy and Cindy's stage. But there was a bright side; a sneer touched your face when taking out a small object from your pocket. It was another cancer stick. Victor had left a pack sitting out carelessly, and you managed to steal one while Peter berated.

 _Wonder if he'll notice one missing_. 

However, the joke was on  _you_ considering there was no lighter.

 _Karma was a bitch_.

You snorted but came up with a fast resolution. Slipping into the kitchen, one of the burners solved the minor issue and you were soon exhaling a thick cloud and thinking about how terrible Victor's brand was.

 _" **I can't breath..."**_ A soft voice floated nearby. You swung around in reaction, your instincts wanting to know where it came from and who had said it.

There was no one around. So who was the culprit?

You were close to jumping to the conclusion Victor was somewhere near and screwing with your head when the voice came back.

 _" **That stuff hurts...** " _It had no pitch, leaving it as a dry whisper. It rose the hairs on your body.

 _This had to have been coming from the imagination._ But these voices were moderately different than the rogue ones you were used to. These sounded sourced from something else completely. Like...an actual person.

 _" **I don't like it when he breathes smoke. It chokes me.** " _It returned with a slight pitch. It was high, resembling a young child's.

" ** _It BURNS!_** " The voice was loud, almost squeaking.

You jumped back and stared at the stage, swearing it had come from that general direction. You had even heard the damn echo of it rebounding off the walls. You scooted further back, eyes pinned on the two animatronic cats. They were motionless and silent with nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's all in your head, **[First Name]**...your mind's just fucked." You whispered.

" ** _He'll do to you what he did to US_!** " A new voice with a different tone popped up, causing you to finally ditch the chair and move away.

"You intend on paying for that?" A raspy and very real voice almost commanded a yell of terror as you swung around again, facing the hallways where Victor stood feet away. His eyes were set on the burning stick wedged between your fingers before traveling up and connecting stares.

 _Now_ he was aware of the petty theft, and it sent a great deal of regret in you mixed with fear. What made it twice as bad was the interesting fact that he had no shadowy grin on his face that paralleled Peter's. He didn't look grimly excited in the slightest. If anything shone it was anger...and annoyance. Every vibe given off told he wasn't playing around tonight.

For the first time you felt a level of new intimidation from him.

"Noo? No." You eventually answered, still able to pull out a careless response, miraculously.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea.

He tilted his head downward ever so slightly, but enough to cause the shadows to conceal his eyes. They had a dark, twinkling glimmer  _like fucking Peter's._  He flicked the cigarette he had in his hand once, spraying ashes in your direction. His mouth and lips remained dull and stone.

"Then you're lucky I'm not in the mood to collect any debts at the moment." He finally spoke in a too-familiar tone and turned back around, leaving you alone and heading back to the office.

Not exactly understanding what he meant, you were a little bemused at the attitude switch, and so suddenly, everything felt like it was Freddy's again.

_" **HeezaMurrderrr.....** "_


	43. Rat

*

Jane and Bobby were fraternal twins who loved visiting Candy's Burgers and Fries. Out of the three competitive restaurants in town, it would always be their favorite.

With matching hair color, they looked more like identical twins. They were closer, as well. Jane never went anywhere without Bobby, and Bobby never went anywhere without Jane.

They visited the burger restaurant quite frequently with their parents; at least two times a week. This particular week had already hit its limit with visits, so they would unfortunately have to wait until after the weekend for another trip.

When it came to getting back home after school, the twins would simply walk, and it's what they did today.

"Hi Jane! Hi Bobby!" The two siblings heard a high voice call out. They turned to look behind them and saw someone catching up.

"Hi Kayla!" They greeted her back. The three shared a class together for the past two years and were good friends.

"Is your mommy not picking you up?" She asked them.

"No. We walk. We live close." Jane answered.

"Do  _you_ walk?" Bobby asked curiously.

"Not a lot. My big brother's gonna pick me up soon." She seemed to boast. Before any of them could start talking about what they did in school, Bobby suddenly went ecstatic.

"Hey look! I think that's Rat!" He pointed across the street near property holding the Candy's Burgers and Fries restaurant.

"Who?" Kayla asked. She was more familiar with Fazbear characters than Candy's. It took her a moment. 

Standing in the empty parking lot was the Rat animatronic. No longer sharing the stage with Candy (Cindy had taken his spot), staff would let the vintage character roam around the party tables depending on the day, but seeing it outside the building was unimaginable.

"What's HE doing out here?" Jane's excitement mirrored her brother's.

" **Kayla**! Where've you been?" Her attention was stolen. 

You appeared from around the corner. Your intent was to pick her up near a specific neighborhood, but became a little panicked when she wasn't in the spot she promised she'd be in. Of course she didn't _mean_ to forget, she had become distracted when she saw the twins walking down the street.

Bobby wasn't affected by your presence, but Jane grabbed a small lock of her hair and played with it while staring at the ground near your feet. She definitely shared one of the many little kid crushes Kayla's friends had on you.

" **[First Name]** , Rat's outside!" She exclaimed, ignoring your vexation for the moment.

"What?" You were confused but looked where she was pointing to. The lone Rat remained stationary in his spot. There was no sign of anyone coming out to retrieve him. It was as if he was left outside like a pile of trash. With how the solar light was casting, you couldn't tell if the thing's eyes were open or if its facial features were active.

"That's weird. And kind of creepy..." You said.

"I like Rat. I see him every week when my parents take us over there." Bobby defended the character like it was his best friend.

"I'm sure." You responded. With patience already being tested, the mood to be super friendly with the smaller youth wasn't flowing.

"C'mon. Mom's gonna kill me if I don't have you back home by four." You focused back on the task at hand on getting your easily distracted sister out of the streets and back home. She happily turned her attention away from Candy's parking lot and began heading in the direction of where home was.

"Bye, Kayla. Bye, **[First Name]**!" Jane waved at you with a shade of pink in her face.

"Yeah. See ya around." You found enough politeness to reply before leaving.

"Wanna say hi to him?" Jane's world of fluffy infatuation was interrupted by Bobby's voice.

"What? Say hi to who?" 

"Rat. Wanna go up and see him?"

"I don't know...shouldn't we go home?" 

"Hey, he's moving!" Bobby yelled when seeing Rat suddenly straighten out his slumped posture and start a slow walk forward. Before Jane could even attempt to talk him out of it, Bobby looked both ways on the street and sprinted towards Candy's parking lot.

"Bobby!" She called out to no avail and resorted to following him until they were standing in front of the mobile robot.

"Hi Rat!" Bobby greeted. Whether he knew the animatronic could hear him or not, he still had a childish thrill in talking to it. Jane was swept away by the excitement and repeated her brother's greeting. Rat finally stopped moving when it was a foot away from the kids.

"What are you doing outside?" Bobby kept speaking to him. Rat's eyes looked a little odd. Instead of symmetrical lids, one was fully open while the other was half closed.

"Can he hear me?" The boy questioned, feeling a little discouraged.

Jane made the bold move of reaching up and tugging on the rat's hand. It was more stiff than she imagined it to be, making her recoil when realizing she couldn't make the limb bend like a normal person's hand.

"Oh, hey! You found Rat for me! Thank you so much!" An adult male voice almost scared the twins out of their shoes. They spun around to see a young man wearing a casual green outfit. His long hair was in a weak ponytail, but he looked friendly. Very friendly.

"We found him?" Bobby repeated.

"Yes! I've been looking all over for him! He knows he's not supposed to wander off during lunch time! He'll miss out and get hungry! Just because he isn't on stage much anymore doesn't mean he won't get fed." The man said with a mixture of concern and relief.

"That's okay. Lunch time isn't over yet. There's still plenty of burgers. There always is. I make more than I ought to and end up throwing a lot of them away. Isn't that ridiculous? I throw away a lot of delicious food!" He chuckled at his own mistakes of wastefulness. 

"Why would you throw them away??" Jane asked, finding this incredible.

"We'll... there's no one else to eat them. I get full and so does everyone else. We can't eat the rest or else we'll get sick. I have some saved for Rat, but there's still too much. I'll be throwing more away today when we're finished." He answered like he was genuinely clueless in how to make and divide proper food portions without overburdening himself.

"Hey, WE can eat them! We're hungry too! And mommy doesn't cook dinner until later. We get snacks sometimes, but we're still hungry." Bobby jumped in with a "brilliant" idea.

"Hmmm...I don't knowww..." The man put a hand on his mouth, stuck in a tough decision. Jane stood next to her brother and put her hands together in a prayer motion.

 _Pleeeeeeeaase?_ She mouthed in silence.

"We won't tell!" Bobby tried adding a deal.

"Hmm... okay! BUT, you can't stay long. Just imagine what your parents would think if you don't come home soon." He gave in with a condition. It put a small frown on both kid's mouths. Not because of the condition, but because the man was right about their parents worrying if they didn't get home soon. But they _really_ wanted those extra burgers...

"That's alright. I can give you some burgers and fries to-go in a bag and you can get a move on. How's that sound?" He came up with a smart plan. It turned the twin's frowns back into excited smiles.

"Okay!" Jane was the one to agree.

"Great! Now I won't have to waste food! Help me get Rat inside, though. Just hold his hands so he isn't scared. He doesn't go outside a lot and the streets frighten him."

The man pushed the animatronic so it was facing the restaurant. He put his hand on the back of its neck, and it suddenly began walking again. Jane held his right hand while Bobby held the left. Everyone walked until back inside the restaurant.

The animatronic stopped moving when the man put his hand on its neck area again. Jane and Bobby scanned the restaurant. It was always weird for a kid to be in a place like this with no one else there. Seeing it so bare and quiet almost made them feel uneasy.

"I don't smell any food..." Bobby piped up when noticing that there weren't any scents of grease to indicate a cooking had been going on.

"That's because there isn't any." The man replied. His voice had changed from grateful friend to dark stranger.

 **I smell C-A-T, CAT!** Rat's vintage dialog randomly went as his jaw struggled to move up and down to it. The voice was still crisp as ever.

 **Oh yeah? Well I smell a RAT!** Another dialog went that didn't belong to Rat this time. There was only one character who had this line, and he wasn't any of the ones on stage.

Candy and Cindy were silent, but Candy's former ego was near the entrance by the children, who would never get to turning around and seeing him.

And the twins would never make it home.

* * *

 

"You think it's a good idea to just go out after two kids have gone missing?" You asked your mother.

She glared in return.

"Do  **not** say that in front of her." She said quiet but sternly, referring to Kayla, who was too engrossed in her fries to hear what was going on.

"I did this so she could have fun and get her mind off her friends."

You rolled your eyes and took a bored sip of your beverage. When staring at the performing characters, there was a small flashback of the one who was standing outside days ago. When Kayla pointed it out...

_Rat?_

You remembered his obvious name.

 _So where is he?_  You wondered when eyeing every robot available to the public here. None of them were that Rat character. Last time you saw him running around the restaurant was when you were twelve.

_And why the fuck was he standing outside that day?_

Maybe the employees were planning on taking him apart and trashing him?

Your thoughts lingered back to the two kids Kayla was with, the twins who had gone missing. Your insides felt cold and the hairs on both your arms went up.

 _This_ place _wasn't responsible, was it?_ You now felt a bad urge to tell someone you last saw the siblings across the parking lot of this restaurant.

 _How could this place and a robotic rat be responsible for the disappearance of the two?_ You tried being rational.

"Here's something on the house!" A chipper voice interrupted your introspection. A man in green put down a hot plate of two large burgers with a mountain of fries. Your mother looked astounded, as did Kayla.

"It's a siblings special! Fresh ingredients too!" He explained.

"Oh wow...thank you!" She said in reply and immediately became distracted with the new food. He only smiled and walked away, but brushed you a bit too hard when walking passed.

"Oops, sorry, lil guy." He responded with a voice opposite of chipper.

You glanced over and gave him a pissed looked for two reasons; one, the brush felt more like an intentional hard bump. Two, "lil guy"? Really?? REALLY?? 

_You were FOURTEEN!_

His eyes were surprisingly already locked on yours before you could focus. They had a twinkle in them that just seemed...vulgar. And familiar.

Your exasperation was replaced with the don't-I-know-you expression, but he continued sauntering and finally broke the stare when entering through a large door meant for employees only. 

You went back to starting on the burger he brought out, thinking the fresh ingredients were quite tasty, and it made you forget about the minor incident.


	44. Jealousy

This day was between busy and steady. There was an abundance of attention coming from the kids as usual, only something different added. As soon as the little ones lost interest, two new faces found their way to you. They weren't young kids, nor were they grown-ups or staff members.

_They were teen girls!_

And they were taking a strong liking to you.

"So...you like.. _work_ here and stuff...right?" One of them, who had wavy brunette hair, asked as she leaned hard on the counter. Both girls had at least one finger twirling a lock of their own hair.

"No, I'm just some random person that dressed up and hopped over the counter." You replied to the (almost) painfully stupid question. You weren't meaning to be a prick, but you absolutely hated brainless chicks, no matter how hot they were.

 _Still pretty hot though._ The heterosexual part of you kicked out.

Indeed they were. Whenever either of them leaned close enough, you took a chance to steal a nice peek down their tank tops. The brunette had perkier breasts compared to her blonde friend, but the blondie had a—

 _a nice ass!_ Your hormones blasted again.

The two just might've been  _trying_ to flash you, for they squeezed their chests hard with their upper arms whenever they leaned close, causing their breasts to push out more. With a mask covering your face, it was easy to eye their cleavage without getting caught. This was the first time in getting an erection from the opposite sex in months. You adjusted your standing position behind the counter so it wasn't noticeable...

"HA! That's hilarious!" The brunette laughed at her own humiliation.

"Why else would he be behind the counter, stupid?!" Her friend said.

"I don't knooooow!" She answered, still laughing. The girl was too lost in her own air-headed giggles to feel offended. They both were desperately trying to act cute.

"So, how old are you?" The blonde asked.

"Eighteen." You answered with your trained fib.

"Ooooooh...college age!" The brunette responded, acting fascinated.

"That's the BEST age to go for when dating older!" Her friend commented.

_So if you found out my real age, would you say no?_

"Oh my God, you're SUCH a slut!" The brunette almost pushed.

"Hey, no way am I dating the guys my age. They're so damn immature...and they don't even know how to use it right." The other defended herself, having no shame in talking about something so perverted.

"But I bet **he** does." She stated, shy smile becoming more of a stark, hungry look.

"Okay...wow." A nervous laugh pushed through you, but you were still compelled and amused by all this. And perhaps a little shy. 

"Can I get a prize?!" A squeaky voice interrupted the rising heat of flirtation.

Both girls tore their gazes to the side, where a young boy was standing. Their eyes weren't narrowed, but there was the same glimmer of sheer annoyance. The young kid had no tickets on him, but he must've been wanting to try his luck on a free prize. Big or small.

The blonde suddenly reached passed you, grabbed a Chica plush from the shelf, and quickly handed it to the kid.

"Here, take this and go away!" She demanded. The boy took the plush and promptly scampered.

"Uuhh..." You were unsure of what to say about her technical theft.

"Fucking annoying kids..." She muttered.

"So anyway..." She restarted, flipping her hair dramatically.

"How far have YOU gone?" She asked softly, and her smile strengthened.

"Uhhmm..." Your body heated and you felt a twinge of discomfort from being backed into a literal corner by them.

 _" **They're practically sitting on your dick, and you're being a pansy??"**_ A voice belittled.

You responded by shaking your head lightly.

"Is there anything I can help you young ladies with?" Another voice interrupted the tension.

The three of you turned your heads and met Zan's stare. He didn't look upset but he looked content. For a second there was only silence as the two teen girls held their gazes. One of them curled up a grin. She was either finding him to also be attractive or she was silently degrading him in her head. Her smile was too crafty to read.

"If not I'm gonna ask you to return to your parents." He broke the silence with his strict professionalism.

The girls looked at each other and then back at him. Their grins slumped to hated, dirty looks, and they grudgingly slid away and rejoined one of the party tables.

"Cockblock." A rogue side of you blurted out before your body locked up in self-bemusement.

_Did I just say that out loud?!_

Zan shot his head at you, looking just as taken aback.

"Dude... One, they're younger than you. Two, you shouldn't let them grab product like that off the shelves. Three, they were distracting you. You should be lucky that it was ME who called you guys out and not Peter." He said, bewildered by your attitude.

 _Well, if you wanna get technical, I'm around the same age. So that just makes it two._ You wished to say this, but only responded by shrugging your shoulders.

"What? Don't—...I don't want to have to write you up over something that stupid." He said, showing a shred of irritation.

_Write you up??_

"Wait...since when did  **you** write people up?" You asked, confused on how he was threatening to punish you professionally.

"Since Peter promoted me. I'm kinda on my way on taking Beth's place. So now...part of my job is making sure the staff are doing what they're supposed to be and not screwing around. What you just did...that's like... three no's in one."

 _Two._ The rebellious side murmured again.

_So Zan got promoted? Interesting..._

"So now you're being a stick in the ass too?" You said.

"Language." He replied.

Even with your only bud here becoming stern, your reaction on being told what to do by someone else other than Peter remained the same. You hopped the counter and started walking away from him and the Corner.

"Bathroom break." You announced before getting too far.

"Pup...if you do that without permission and a cover I'll have to alert Peter..." He tried sounding assertive.

"Peter can blow me." You responded without regret, and pushed the men's restroom door open.

Besides, Peter didn't want covers at the Prize Corner, anyway. He wanted you and **only** you there.

You leaned against the bathroom wall just to kill time. There was a streak of enmity swimming in your blood for strange reasons.

 _Was it because of Zan?_ The man you thought would never give shit while you remained here...

No doubt there was a small fear of the guy changing in a bad way. Bad as in "strict buzzkill". The once bubbly and goofy young man who kept you company whenever he was on the clock was now morphing into a rule enforcer.

 _Well that's kind of how it works when you're in power and have more responsibility..._ You tried sympathizing with him.

_But still. He just forgets you're cool with him and acts like a hardass?_

Sour feelings returned. Last thing you wanted was another Beth. It being the person you once loved seeing almost every day was only an add to the hatred of what was becoming of Zan so fast. Soon you'll have no one to chat with... _This_ was the possibly the biggest fear about the change.

You jumped a few centimeters when the bathroom door flew open again, holding a tetchy Peter. You swung around to face him, but kept your arms folded.

"What??" You were first to speak, ready to hear about how his peace was disturbed when Zan tattled, and yaddayadda.

"I think I'll start taking your suggestion on keeping management off your ass into consideration..." He started with a low rasp.

 A snarky smile touched your face behind the mask.

"Aw, whatsamatter? You don't like having visitors at your door during the day?" You teased with an intrepid nerve.

Peter finally let the bathroom door close behind him.

"Well, that's a given. But...that's not what my main concern is for this particular complaint." He answered.

"Then wut is?" You asked, standing your ground.

He was immobile for about three seconds while staring into the mask's black eye sockets. You could see the anger filling up his eyes as they tautened.

 _Was he_ really _that upset about you leaving the Corner by itself for just a few minutes?_

He broke his heated gaze by bolting forward and shoving you against the wall you were propped on minutes ago, almost causing you to hit the back of your head.

 _NOW what?!_ You thought. This sort of violence was usually rooted from his personal disturbed sentiments. 

"It's about you getting a little friendly with a couple of the guests here." He stated.

Zan must've told him about this... _So wha—_  

You stopped yourself and did the basic math, along with remembering how possessive this man was. He couldn't see your eyes, but you were meeting his own.

"You jealous bastard... _Really!_??" You almost boasted, and struggled to contain the laughter of how he was envious over two teenagers coming near his property. Perhaps they weren't the best choice of words...

He responded by throwing you to the cold tiled floor of the restroom. You grunted, but put up no fight as he stood over.

"Don't worry..." You talked again, but coughed once from the hard impact.

"Didn't plan on doing anything, so you can calm the fuck down." You concluded. It was fun seeing his reaction to what happened between you and two slutty teen girls, but you knew it was time to reassure him on your loyalty before he became _too_ violent.

He knelt down and got on his hands and knees over you.

"No, you wouldn't have." He replied.

"But we're over that now. So let's bring up the last thing you said to Zan before you entered this room. What was it?" He questioned. The angry scowl was replaced with his crazed, toothy grin. His teeth were so damn white that you imagined sparkles around them.

"I, uhh..."

"Say it again. **Say it**." He ordered.

"Peter..." You began on the first portion. A nervous temperature swept over you, but it was obvious on exactly where he was going with this.

"...can blow me." You finished. Your pulse quickened, feeling a tingle of shame. He released a trio of airy chuckles.

"CAN he now?" He mocked.

"Feeling naughty in a public restroom again. Classy." You said with sullen humor.

" _You're_ the one that gave out the invitation." He remarked. You were out of smartass answers for now.

 _No way out of this..._ You accepted.

"You might want to do something about that door first. Y'know...in case a person walks in." You hinted, but he was having none of it.


	45. High state of mind

Victor was an unpleasant sight to your eyes, but every conversation he tried striking was ignored. You didn't want to lose any nerve (or patience) before even ten minutes of being here. Your eyes were still drawn to the neatly polished animatronics on stage. You felt ice in your veins when moving your sight over to Blank. You visibly shivered as memories poked your psyche.

"Why is that nasty bastard still around? If you upgraded everyone, why is Blank still his hideous self?" You forced the question. With new robots and what not, Blank was truly a croc in this mote of gators and it didn't seem right. Plus you always hated him.

"We tried. But the material that would've plated him didn't work well with crayons or markers. Everything would just smear. So we just kept him as is. And the younger kids like him enough to where it doesn't matter, anyway."

Half of Victor's explanation drained out your ears in distinction to your focus on Blank. For a femtosecond his wide eyes tore and made contact with yours, making you jump to the side in immediate fear, almost running into Victor, who had approached nearby. When peering back, the large eyes were looking forward like they always have been.

But there was a symphony of inaudible voices rippling in your head.

"Why are you so jumpy?!" He asked in a whit of obnoxious.

You caught your breath and swallowed.

"Ppffuck off..." You replied and moved to an opposite end of the children's burger joint. You didn't remember having this much trouble with the animatronics here on the first night of visiting...

Victor walked into the kitchen and stayed there for several minutes before coming back out with something that wasn't food. It was a rather large bag of—

_WEED!_

Your eyes rolled inwardly and you made the decision of sitting at the furthest table from him, which unfortunately happened to be the one closest to Candy and Cindy. You stared at anything but the couple, but already a cold sweat was breaking, and you felt the terrible urge to look but  **not** look up at the damned duo so close.

A burning scent caught your attention, and you scooted back in the chair when registering Victor standing next to you. The option to tell him to screw off again (but in a more vulgar way) was almost chosen, until seeing the blunt he had in his hand, lit and ready for usage.

_At least he wasn't offering crack pipes this time._

"I'm good." You shut out the offer instantly. He put on an exaggerated frown and moved the smoking object slightly closer.

"What'samatter? Afraid your system can't take it? It's just pot. It won't hurt ya." He said.

"Trust me, I've done worse." You replied. It made you think back on the drugs Peter would force in the past. Weed would be a walk in a flowery park compared to what you've experienced.

"C'mon, I KNOW guys your age smoke!" He tried again.

"You're right, but I'd rather have a cigarette." 

"Oh yeah...I forgot you liked doing the 'big boy' nicotine stuff. Developed early as a child, have we?" He giggled amusingly a bit too hard.

"You could say that."

"Well then, considering you're so jumpy, you might as well take a huff. Just one at least. It may calm you down." This time his voice wasn't so perverted, and he placed the blunt near you and disappeared back into the kitchen. It was shameful to admit, but he had a decent argument. You only smoked cannabis a few times and it had always calmed your nerves. Perhaps it could help now.

Help quiet the damned voices...

You were ambivalent about taking a hit and giving off the false impression that you were slowly trusting him by accepting his offerings. However, just sitting here and making a paranoid mess of yourself wasn't really a pleasant option either.

While he was still absent, you picked up the blunt and sucked the contents in. It was more uncomfortable than remembered, and in seconds the coughs assailed. Victor, who was now wrecked to the fifth level, came out laughing hard, like some goofy friend watching the other struggle to smoke. You would've been put off by this, but your mind succumbed to the drug's effect and you were calmer. Much calmer. And you could smell what was going on in the kitchen: patties and fries were being cooked. Victor was all too prepared for this.

The scent of hot grease hit your stomach like a fist, and you now desperately hungered for the junk food you were once literally sick and tired of.

"See? We can make the best of just sitting here in this god-awful place! Peter's never really let me slack off like this in the past. But y'know, Peter ain't here!" He joked. The pot kept you from blowing off his comments and you actually started to go with the flow. You jumped to your feet and headed towards the kitchen when Victor offered the food.

The both of you wolfed down a handfuls of fries before adding several patties between two buns, making monstrous burgers. Your paranoia was absent, and you walked around with the greasy food in your bare hands and took messy bites, while Victor kept rambling on about things that still caught no interest. Even at a high state all patience had a limit with the man, and you felt no problem with just walking away when he was in mid sentence, though he kept talking.

You roamed the dining area again towards Chester's stage with his curtains covering him. There was definitely no intention in bothering _him_.

"Foxy rip-off." You muttered. You remembered when that corner used to have a gum ball and other small candy machines. Your eyes jerked when seeing the door close to the chimpanzee's corner. 

**Employees Only**

You gazed at it for minutes. There was an old memory of going through this door before, back when you were twelve, but you swore it happened on another occasion even before that. Wires of recollection began gathering in your head and went into a knotted frenzy at trying to connect and restore memories. 

 _You swore to the entire soul you've been behind this door many more years ago, other than just that one time..._ But you just couldn't think of it.

You made slow steps to the door that gave off such an unearthly vibe. You finally turned the knob and pulled it open, glad it was unlocked in the first place. After feeling around, a light switch was eventually found. Flipping it on revealed the room to be a simple parts and services room, just like the one at Fazbear's. All curiosity would've been quelled if it wasn't for the second door in the back of the closet-like room. It wasn't labeled and had quite a bit of chips and rust to it.

Vision clouded and your head started mildly hurting. There were no voices this time, but all colors in sight seemed to enhance, making the old door look more vibrant than it ought to, look almost plastic in texture. There was no doubt it was triggering some kind of dead memory within your subconscious to resurface like a zombie out of the dirt.

For the sake of your sanity, you approached the weathering door and tried the handle.

Unlocked...But you may soon be wishing it wasn't. You entered the unknown room that attacked your mentality and saw its lights were already on. Dim, but enough to see around and help pieces of the mental puzzle slowly take their proper places in your head.

The room had a large conveyor belt in the middle, leading to a grinder.

_A fucking MEAT grinder!_

Flashbacks of a certain foreign object being thrown into the grinder replayed in your head for the first time in years. You staggered backward and tripped, landing hard on the cold floor. You hurled the abnormal burger you had in your hand away, not picking a spot to target. Just anywhere to get it away from you as the memory of what went into the meat so many years ago on that faithful day replayed in your mind.

While scrambling to stand back up, your sight fell onto the animatronic of a rat, sitting on the floor across from the door, leaning against the cord-littered wall.

_Rat..._

You trembled when witnessing the rotten thing lift its head and return the gaze.

 _"What's wrong? You don't want your burger?"_ Old words crept out while your eyes remained pinned on the dark sockets of Rat's skull.

"Oh God..." You groaned while darting back through the heavy door, returning to the dining area.

In a chaos of panic and shock, you started wincing and felt the cramping impulse to reject everything that had been recently eaten from your stomach, but were too stuck on staring at the still-open door. Every fiber and cell within you expected to see the skinny brown animatronic come walking its way through—

"The hell did you do?!" Victor's strict voice pierced the intense moment, and he grabbed you by your shoulders.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You yelled out in retaliation and attempted to shove him off in a frenzy.

He was stronger than he looked. His strength was similar to Peter's, and he wrapped his arms around your whole body as means of restraint.

" _Get off!!_ " You wailed again and struggled as your mind overflowed and was overridden with newly-dug deplorable memories.

"Fuck this..." You heard him murmur before feeling a jab on your shoulder that steadily lead to a bizarre tranquility.

* * *

 

Everything came to when feeling petty smacks on the side of your face.

"C'mooooon....." He urged impatiently when noticing your awareness return.

You leaned in one direction and tipped in the other before finding the balance to sit up straight and stare back at Him. He stood over you, cigarette dangling in his mouth, and blew out a small cloud near your face. His dark eyes glimmered but his face was solemn, even when you finally cleared of drowsiness. You broke the stare to scan your surroundings. You were back in Fazbear's Room and sitting on the tall mattress.

"Hey." He called out, grey smoke leaving his mouth like an exhaust pipe. He tapped with his palm again.

"Stop." You grumbled and dodged his hand.

"Wanna tell me what that was?" 

"What... _what_?" You repeated.

"Had to wait an hour for the drug Victor put in you to wear off. 'Said you freaked out. I wanna know **why**." He told you before taking a medium huff and blowing out a perfect smoke ring with little effort.

Your eyes lingered near the corners while you thought back to the moments before waking up here.

 _Candy's...weed...burgers...weird door_... Meat grinder.

When it all came back your pulse jumped and your spine stiffened.

 _Oh God_...

You were dangerously close to repeating all actions from earlier. That is until Peter grabbed you.

"If I have to smack you again it's gonna be _**hard**_ this time." He warned.

"Now answer me." He let go.

Your lungs ventilated calmly while you remained silent, still deciphering on how everything was to be explained without confusing him.

"I walked into one of the back rooms—"

"Whyyy?" He immediately interrupted.

Already it was learned you had truly entered a forbidden zone area over an hour ago, and were now having to own up to it.

"I don't know, really. I was extra curious with shit because Victor got me high. He was smoking weed and wanted _me_ to."

There was no time wasted in throwing the other man under the bus. Peter's eyes whipped to the side of his upper vision. It looked to be half an eye-roll. He said nothing more (yet) and let the explanation carry on.

"To make it a long story short, I had a bad flash back. A fucked up one. When I saw Candy's conveyor belt it just made me break for a moment. Maybe you don't know this, but some people can get fucked up from things they see. I saw something in there at one time that wasn't exactly pleasant."

You described what had possessed you during that moment. Images of a horrific scene kept popping up in your head, and you gripped the edge of the mattress until the tips of your fingers turned white. 

"What'd you see?" 

_Was he really asking?_

Your innards sank.

"Just shit that traumatized me is all. Something that shouldn't have been in the back of a kid's restaurant. Much like THIS place." You gave a mild retort.

"Only...worse." You added.

"When it happen?"

 _Why does it matter??_ You wanted to say.

"Years ago. When I was a lot younger."

"Huh...so he  _was_ messin' around when he was a teen." Peter said without looking at you. You weren't entirely sure due to the shadow in his face, but you thought he was wearing a tiny smirk.

"What?"

"Nuthin... here." He took the cancer stick out his mouth and held the end to your face.

"Do it." He softly directed.

Your mouth was spewing noxious smoke before things began feeling remotely better. He then backed up and started walking away.

"I don't want this happening again. Understand? It's stressful enough that I have to bounce you around to different spots at night."

It was an amazement in how chill he was, despite being rushed back over to Candy's and hauling you back.

"Why can't I just remain here? It was never a problem in the past." You asked.

"You can. At times. But not every night. Five-O sniffs this place out every now and then like hounds. Can't risk it. Not until the damned case closes. I can explain an empty room with a mattress to the cops. I can't explain the person _living_ in 'said room." He said on his way out.

"Seriously; no more fuck-ups. Control yourself. I DON'T like someone drugging you like that." He was saying, his concern a little baffling.

"'Cause no one does that but **me**." He concluded with a wide grin before closing the door.


	46. Bitter pills

*

"Does anything like this run in the family, Miss **[Last Name]**?" The doctor asked.

"That's kind of what I need to explain to you." Your mother tried gathering the right words.

"We'll take this to the other room."  

She got up and followed him, agreeing it would've been better to not have you present in this conversation.

"I'll be right back, **[First Name]** , okay?" She left you sitting in one of the comfy chairs as she kept explaining your problem to the child's psychiatrist. 

"He has nightmares. Bad ones. They aren't your typical ones where they wake up a little shaken and run to their parent's room. I've found him half-asleep with his hands on his doorknob. He's literally fallen asleep holding his door shut like he's desperately trying to keep something out, like his life is depending on it. He won't tell me why, he always says he can't remember. I just don't know... It's affecting his health. He barely eats and he's starting to faint while at school from exhaustion. There has to be something..." She explained.

And she was right; you didn't remember anything. Only for those few seconds when the nightmare would take fold, and then disintegrating into nothing by the time you woke up.

"And you're sure nothing traumatic has happened to the child within the past year?" The doctor asked the question as if it had been repeated to her several times, in which it probably was—by several other professionals.

"I would know if something happened to him..." She answered softly.

"I'm sorry to keep asking, but can you tell me  **any** incidences or events that they boy took part in that might've caused anything traumatic? Anything within the past six months?" 

"He hasn't done much. He's mostly been home. There was one birthday party he went to a couple months ago. But all the adults had their eyes on the kids. They never left the play area."

"Play area?" 

"Oh, he went to one of those silly kid's restaurants in town that are so popular. I can't remember which one, but the parents who chaperoned were more strict than I am myself. They counted the numbers every five minutes or so and defused any situation. I was told he vomited, but that's because he ate too much candy earlier in the day. Other than that, nothing. If there were any issues he at least would've told me. He's very independent for his age...so he either would've figured it out himself or come to me if things got bad."

This mysterious cause was getting more confusing as she pulled out possibilities that might as well have been useless. 

"There are therapy sessions..." He offered the most basic. But what more could he do? He had no clues.

"I mean, I would but...We aren't made of money right now. I have a demanding toddler at home and the two of them together are expensive enough as is." She said.

 _Pricey_ s _essions were off the table then._

Luckily the man didn't look helplessly out of ideas just yet.

"Well, Miss **[Last Name]** , there is one more suggestion I can make. But it hasn't really been tested to the point where it can be simply prescribed without a worry under the sun." He tapped the end of his pen on his notebook without looking at her.

"Prescribe? Prescribe what?"

"Technically it  _has_ been tested a few times. So far nothing alarming or concerning has been brought to our attentions. It's a drug that's been given the name Oblituvil. It can only be legally prescribed to volunteers suffering extreme cases, and I hate to say it, but...little **[First Name]** falls under that category." He explained with compact emotion.

"What does it do?" 

"In low dosages it slowly numbs structures and neurons of the brain in certain sections. Usually around the amygdala, where trauma tends to settle and get stuck, causing the sufferer to experience many well-known effects, such as severe PTSD, hallucinations, and more."

"Meaning...?" She wanted the blunt, simple truth without the fanciness.

"It will make him forget certain memories. Bad memories."

This sounded too crazy to be true; the ability to forget bad memories all in a simple pill?

"It can't possibly be that easy?"

"Like I've said, ma'am, it's still in testing and there's yet to be any concerns brought to our attention. But...I'd like to make a deal with you." He had her curiosity again. Partially. 

"How would you like to be _paid_ to medicate your son with this?"

Now it was interesting. 

"Why would I be paid for making him use this?" She asked carefully. Last thing she'd want is to put your health at risk anymore than it already was.

"We've been looking for volunteers and they aren't easy to find, which we can understand. And it would be a bit too... 'distasteful' to use them on your typical war vet with PTSD. We don't want to be accused of using our veterans like lab rats..."

"My son isn't a lab rat **either**." 

"Certainly not, Miss **[Last Name]**. But I don't want you getting told the same things by other doctors, who will most likely suggest therapy sessions as well, thus wasting your time and money that needs to be saved for your family." He made a good point, and she didn't need to be reminded that she'd be getting payment out of it. She was silent, her eyes on the floor while she thought.

"How much would I be getting if I do this?" She didn't want to seem greedy, but with insurance only covering so much, she couldn't afford to keep finding alternatives.

"Three-fifty a week."

It obviously wasn't the "small" three-fifty.

"How long is he going to be on this? I don't want to have to medicate him until he's an adult..." 

"We actually only want him on this for a month to two months. Not long at all. I can tell you that all of our patients who've taken this so far have had great success and have been able to return to their normal lives." 

The deal was getting to be too tempting, but she wasn't finished dissecting the what-if's just yet.

"They didn't forget things that were important? Such as family members or even their own personal information??" She asked.

"None of them have reported this. That's all I'm able to say on it." He answered.

"No one's worried the ill memories will resurface at some point?" She asked. This was a good question. It made the man adjust his glasses and change sitting positions.

"We've concluded such things should never happen... _unless_ the patient were to experience another traumatic event in their life. A powerful traumatic event. We definitely don't wish this on them or anyone for that matter, but you can't say such things would never happen. It's all possibilities." He explained.

"I...I don't want to sound confident about this but..He IS a boy, and when they get older they tend to get riled up with others, especially in school. Y'know..a 'boys will be boys' kind of thing...I don't want THAT to be the reason—" 

"That wouldn't be a cause. I'm talking something _intense_ , such as near-death experience, kidnapped— **those** kinds of events. However, with such a caring mother, I can give my personal opinion that those things will never happen." He told her and smiled. He now had her trust on this, and within ten minutes she was signing several papers and was given a special prescription for a medicine bottle that would be filled with an appropriate amount of small purple-colored pills.

"Side-effects so far have been drowsiness and mild headaches. So I would recommend giving him one at night before bed. And make sure he drinks plenty of water; this should keep him from _getting_  headaches." She was told.

After just merely five days, you were never found clinging to a door again.

And life went on...


	47. Torn patches

*

"Hey! We have the same shirts!" a boy—not belonging in your birthday group—merrily stated when when almost bumping into him. And he was; same color and everything. 

"Cool!" You said when confirming the shirt match for yourself. Just then, two other boys from your group began a dispute next to the both of you.

"That marker was for ME! I was going to use that to color a picture on Blank!" One of them argued.

"So tell someone who cares!" Was the other boy's harsh comeback.

The first kid was quick to settle things with physical force and the two were in a tussle faster than a push and a shove, but it was over just as it started when a father, who was chaperoning, pulled them apart in seconds flat. He barked orders for them to sit at a table for five minutes as punishment. They pouted but obeyed. Your own spirits were pushed down a bit when the same man focused his attention on you next.

" **[First Name]** , stay in the group! Remember the ten step rule." He reminded you.

 _I'm not a baby!_ You thought grumpily.

These grown-ups were strict and you hated it!

However, the balloon string tied around your wrist gave a clever idea. Each kid in your group had string on their wrists to help the adults identify them during recounts. The kid wearing the same shirt as you was still close by. After a quick study you could no longer resist going through with your plan. His hair was similar to yours, and this completed the "ingredients" for the idea.

"Hey, wanna play a game? It will be fun!" You asked him.

"Yeah!" He agreed.

"It's a pretend game. I'm going to pretend to be you, and you'll pretend to be ME!" You offered as you began to untie the string from your wrist. At first he said nothing, confused.

"The grown-ups will think you're me." You coerced.

Eventually the boy cracked a smile, which was the signal. He held out his wrist and you retied the string onto him.

"Now you're **[First Name]**!" You told him excitedly. He gave you his own name in return, and the two of you split up and went back to playing with your new "identities". All seemed to be working so far as you had taken over _twenty_ steps from the play area without your name being yelled.

_So what to do now?_

You hadn't thought this far. You only wanted to be able to venture without such a short leash on. You didn't realize how unoccupied a large portion of the restaurant was until making it over to a quiet area that held no one else. You were near a few small candy machines and a large door. A _very_ large door.

**EMPLOYEES ONLY**

Although you were too young to know what "employees" meant, you knew what "only" stood for; It meant this one door was reserved for someone other than you and the parents. However, your adventurous spirit refused to be stopped by this literal wall.

 _Let's go!_ Your young mind encouraged.

 _Do it_.

You stood on tip toes, reached for the large knob, and turned it with both your small hands. It moved smoothly and you could feel it unlatch. _Opening_ the door however, was a struggle on its own. You grunted while pulling hard. It was slow in moving, and at one point you glanced back with caution just to make sure no one was looking this way.

Your tiny muscles were close to throwing in the towel until the door was pulled out enough to where your little body could squeeze through if you used a bit of effort. You took one last look behind and pretzeled your way in through the forbidden zone.

On the other side was a small room with a work bench and a few tools, laid out neatly. Power tools—the kind you saw your father use a lot and weren't allowed to have in your possession. You were almost enticed to grab one until you saw the second large door at the very end of the room. It looked ancient compared to the previous one; Its coat of paint wasn't as shiny as the last. Most of it was chipped and peeling away.

 _Ugly door_. You thought. But still another door with secrets—this was the important part.

Like a moth to a flame, your eyes held an unblinking gaze on the knob while you carefully approached and tried it. Luckily this second door was lighter than it looked and didn't wipe you out just by opening it. Beyond lay a dimly-lit room of gadgets. One big one especially.

Huge.

A large conveyor belt, leading to a small pit where you saw what appeared to be burger meat, ready for slicing and mashing and molding into patties. On the conveyor belt, however, was—

 _—It's just a doll! It's just a big doll._ _Like a Halloween decoration_.

Your brain immediately burned itself out trying to convince you that the thing laying across the belt was fake. On the belt, with its arms hanging over, was a body. A small human body. _Like a kid's_. Without its head.

 _A FAKE one!_  Your mind raved again. But it all just seemed...

It looked more convincing than any decoration you've ever seen. On the neck, where the head would've started, was a clean cut. You could see red all in the inside, and it spilled out and over the belt. You saw a speck of something white in the very middle of the exposed area. The smell was unlike anything you've ever been around.

It reminded you of metal. That was the best description.

You stood motionless, still convinced all this before you was faux.

 _But why would they have a Halloween decoration in here if it wasn't even close to the holiday?_ You kept wondering despite your beliefs.

The belt started to move suddenly, sending a jolt of life back into you. Slowly the body went, carried to the end of the conveyor where the burger meat sat in a raw heap. You watched the corpse tumble inside, the doors around closing and sealing it in. Then you heard a loud electrical noise, the machine kicking to life in a hum.

Your legs moved without your mind's consent, making you walk backwards first without any reaction to this scene. You finally started to run, going back to where you came from. You went through both doors without even bothering to close them, and somehow managed to rejoin the birthday group without a parent taking notice in where you had arrived from.

"Who's hungry?!" A mother in the group announced moments after, making the other children shout in excitement before crowding the birthday table. You were a slug to their rush, finding a seat at the very end and last at getting a hot burger with a plate of fries to go with it.

_SLAM!_

The sound of a door being roughly shut was heard in the distance, and your eyes fell on the quiet corner you had just come back from. The heavy door with its blunt sign had been closed by someone anonymous. Your sight yanked back to where the food was sitting.

No one saw you leave or come out... You reminded yourself this and calmed a little.

As the other kids tore ferocious bites of their sandwiches without mercy, you remained immobile in a kind of trance, staring at your food without even touching it.

"What's wrong, **[First Name]**? You don't want your burger?" A father passed by and noticed your odd behavior. He nudged on your shoulder after asking this. You gazed at the patty meat sticking out under the bun. It was very gleamy and greasy. Slowly, your mind trailed back to what was in the room you had no business investigating.

You stared as a small, runny trail of meat juice mixed with grease fell from the patty and onto the plate below it. You remembered the trail of red dripping off the headless thing on the conveyor belt.

 _"It wasn't fake"._ A very rare section within you, more realistic and mature than your physical being, came out and whispered into your conscience before scurrying back into the depths of your brain, where it would stay for the majority of life.

You were given a head start, pushing your chair away from the table before sharply turning around (where no one was in the way) and releasing all the sugary sweets you had snacked on prior.


	48. Smoke ring

His tongue was always like an acrylic paintbrush in your mouth, brushing strokes of dark passion and power over your own muscle before tickling the roof. When he pulled away you'd always think that your limit had been hit, until he pierced you with his shadowy eyes, throwing another large pile of fresh coal into your burning libido.

Confusion and wonders were sprouted when he held up his gleaming lighter.

"What are y—"

" **Shh**!" He hushed.

"Shhhhhh..." His hushes, firm a second ago, were now buttery smooth, melting your tensed muscles and rewarming the nether regions. When you relaxed completely, he pulled out a cancer stick and swiftly lit it for usage. He took one inhale and blew out a rather large but perfect smoke ring that passed your face and broke when hitting your shoulders. It would be the second time in seeing Him do this, but it still fascinated you. Peers from school would always attempt this trick, but failed miserably.

"Think you can do _that_ , smoker?" He asked with a steaming mouth.

"No." You answered, a thin flush of shame suffusing your face. 

"I'll show you." He said with an ear-tickling rasp, and put the burning white stick to your face.

Without much room to decline, you eventually drew in a breath-full.

" **No**." He suddenly jumped in.

"Don't actually inhale it. Try again." He rectified. 

You took in another mouth-full.

"Now push your tongue back." He instructed, but you were momentarily clueless. He suddenly leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours, almost making you cough on the smoke. His tongue slithered out and firmly pressed yours to the back of your heated mouth before pulling off just as fast.

"Now release it. Slowly."

You did as told, but only managed to spew out mutated, airy blobs. After this expected failure, you were given another try. When you had your mouth full this time, he flicked the side of your cheek with a finger. You were perplexed again until you saw the tiny smoke rings spilling from your mouth.

"Eventually you'll get to the point of 'look ma, no hands' after practicing for a while". He said as he helped you string out miniature rings until you couldn't contain the laughs of amusement at your stupidly awesome achievement any longer.


	49. Your turn

You didn't care how bad it looked to be standing around, propped against a wall and doing absolutely nothing as the night crew worked on the closing lists. You weren't in a sullen mood by any means, but you were bored and had no one to chat with. You hadn't spoken to Zan in close to a week after his super promotion to management. Of course you saw him around, but neither of you made any effort to exchange even quick glances. However, all of that was fixing to change, and not by your choice. The young man was making his slow way over.

_Whatever you plan on telling me to do, it ain't happening._

"Hey Pup." He was first to greet. He looked a little cautious, maybe, but was also determined to kill the elephant in the room.

"Hey." You greeted back.

"Look, I...just want to apologize for behaving like an ass the other day. It was my first day as management and I was stressing out over everything. Little things. Like the two stupid chicks who were on your case..."

 _If by 'case' you mean 'dick'._  You fought the urge to say.

"It's fine. I'm just more used to that stuff coming from Peter. Or Beth...who won't be missed." You responded with a neutral attitude. Even though you weren't showing gratefulness over the apology, you _did_ feel a huge weight taken off your shoulders. Still, there was a satisfaction in being reconciled with him. 

"So...would it be too much to ask you to stop leaning on the wall?" He asked, partially smiling. You could tell he was betting with himself on what your answer would be.

"Yup." You replied, not moving an inch. 

Despite you being serious he still laughed.

"Damn you're a stubborn ass." He said.

"If you think I'll be getting away with doing nothing tonight, you'd be wrong. Trust me, Peter already has a lot of work planned for me soon before I...leave. Just saying. So you can say I'm just taking a break until then." You told him what was somewhat accurate. If there was ever any activities to do after dark it was much worse than wiping down a few tables.

"Oh yeah? What's he got for ya?" 

"Just uh...cleaning. Lots of it. The stage mostly." You came up with a story that had been bought before.

"Oh...well then.. Good luck, bud. See you tomorrow." He returned to the dining area.

"Yeah..." You said under your breath and remained leaning in the spot for another five minutes or so before the staff were dismissed. You finally straightened yourself out, threw your mask on the counter of Prize Corner, and walked into the kitchen, content on getting a drink from someplace other than the water fountain. 

Swiping a water from the back-stock of refreshments, you downed half the bottle before returning to the dining area.

"That's a buck right there." A dark voice called you out.

You didn't have to be looking to know he was smiling. You could always hear his smile, if that even made sense.

Your sight traveled and saw Him standing by the Corner's counter, arms crossed, and yes... _smiling_.

"Oh no, I can't pay for it...guess I'll be working here for the rest of my life." You tossed the still half-full bottle into the trash.

"Hey Puppet...c'mere." He instructed in a harmless voice. His lips thinned against his white, flashing teeth. 

"...Why?" You knew better than to just immediately suspect nothing strange about this.

_What did he want?_

You could only wonder. Last time he called you over to him like this you ended up hanging from shackles on the stage with the cost of your remaining sanity.

"Because I told you to." He simply answered without needing a proper reason. He was able to say this without losing his happy look that you expected to slump after the light defiance. Silently grumbling, you pushed yourself closer, despite everything inside screaming not to.

You stopped inches away from him.

"Yessss?"

It was originally planned to keep a few feet between the two of you, however, you already knew it would only end up in him ordering to bring yourself closer. So why bother?

"Guess what." He said, grin still going strong and arms still crossed.

 _Shit.._. You already didn't like where this was headed. So many possibilities could come out of this, great or small. Either he was just in a joking mood and would say something stupid, or he would say something grotesque.

"What?"

"Can you guess?" His smile went cheshire.

"Not really." 

 _Because you didn't want to_.

"Go ahead. Try." He pushed.

 _Do I HAVE to?_ You wanted to beg the question.

"Gee...you're gonna let me sleep now and skip the day tomorrow, maybe?" 

"No."

"Then what?"

"I have an erection." He boldly revealed without breaking his features.

_Are you fucking serious?_

"Faaaascinating." You managed to reply, eyes falling in slight disgust.

"Hey, I also give you props for being able to predict the night." He said.

"What?"

"You told Zan I had plenty of work for you to do." He explained with a laugh in-between.

"So is he like...your new tattle bud?" You asked, losing respect for Zan again. You didn't think he'd go behind your back like this, especially after his apology earlier.

"Nahh, don't think of it that way. He just has to report things to me at the end of every business night. It's what management is required to do. It's what he signed up for, and if he wants to  _keep_ the position, then he must meet the expectations." 

"Wonderful. Anyway, go take care of your little problem yoursel—" You were saying until both his hands came down and pushed  _hard_ on your shoulders, forcing you on both knees painfully. You grunted from the impact, definitely knowing there'd be bruises come tomorrow.

"Your turn." Peter said dominantly.

"For what..." You asked, still shaking off the stinging in your knees and shins. There was a small part in you that remained ignorant in hopes of avoiding the obvious. However, the rest of you already knew what was on his mind—and you weren't thrilled in the slightest.

 _Please don't make me do it_... You implored inwardly.

Cringing, you kept your head to the side, looking as far away as possible while he took a hand off you to undo his belt. The sound of metal jingling sealed your fate, and the final _zip_ ping noise was the last thing needed to send a physical chill down your back.

You were always okay with him doing everything in the past...even when it came to wet forceful make-out sessions. But being forced to suck the root...you didn't know if you could do this.

 _He'd **make** you do it._  Reality told you. 

_Whether you were terrible at it or not._

He snickered dryly as his hands grabbed your head and pulled you closer, forcing all sights at what was in front of you.

 _Massive._ You (shamefully) admitted.

"You really want to trust someone who's never done this?" You asked, shutting your eyes tight. It was an attempt to make him have second thoughts. You've heard classmates in the past talking about how a girlfriend could give bad head and even cause bad pain.

Surely Peter wouldn't want to risk this?

"It ain't difficult. Besides, you oughtta know what a guy would and wouldn't want." He responded with a single laugh.

"And no teeth. Or else..." He added in before you felt his thumbs slither down your bangs and over your eyes, forcing them to remain shut.

Or else... _or else he'll sink his thumbs in your sockets?_ Your brain put together, making your pulse spike in fear.

"Open." He ordered.

You were unresponsive at first. Despite always following his commands this was one you were completely torn on. The muscles in your jaw cramped up, refusing to make an access. When immobile for less than a few seconds you felt his thumbs press down slightly. Your lips finally parted, but displayed a snarl before you separated your teeth.

"Wider." Impatient this time.

When your jaw stretched to acceptable dimensions, you didn't get a chance to breath out before his thick manhood delved into your oral opening, passing your throat. You immediately gagged and threw your hands on him, blindly trying to pull yourself away and breathe. His grip was too strong...

"You have nostrils, you dense animal. Breathe through _them_!" He advised.

You heeded and inhaled deep with your nose. Luckily, there was just enough room left in your throat for a decent amount of air to pass through. When you had your first breath, he pushed himself deeper down your system, triggering your eyes to water. Despite the horrible distractions your body was dealing with, you were able to hear him. He wasn't saying anything, but he was making a noise. Several noises.

_Butchered moaning._

While you were in unbearable discomfort, here he was feeling the complete opposite.

 _God, when is it gonna be over?!_ You mentally screamed. You tried opening your eyes but only saw purple in your vision. His silk-like formal shirt brushed against your nose roughly, making his dark and spicy but catchy scent linger into your sinuses, giving you a familiar spark in your abdomen that traveled downwards. With your focus pinned somewhere else, the cramps in your mouth and neck numbed to where you barely noticed him starting to thrust. When your mind gave attention to your mouth again, it wasn't because of pain this time.

 _Can't breathe_... You realized when he was going in too deep and fast for you to recover air. You noticed your hands were still on his sides when your fingers curled in a cringe, but it didn't seem to alert him that you needed a literal breather. He was too far into the point of no return, and just when you thought you'd have to start physically struggling again, he pushed even deeper, and released a low growl from his  _own_ gullet.

It wouldn't be the only thing released.

 _No. Dear God, no..._ You panicked when feeling him throb and pulse inside your mouth. Next came the hot substance that almost felt like it was burning. The taste was last to hit you when part of the hot liquid somehow managed to travel upwards.

The salty taste...You wanted to instantly gag it up, but he sensed your resistance and squeezed your head again.

" **Swallow**. All of it." He demanded in an airy voice through his chopped panting.

 _No!_ Your mind refused again, but your body was already following his command. A mixture of Peter's hot seed and copious amounts of saliva disappeared down your esophagus. There was another gag, smaller this time, but you managed to keep everything down. Then he finally let you pull away.

For a moment you stayed on your knees, wiping away the mess hanging from your mouth with your sleeves, feeling absolutely filthy. You could hear his faint sigh as more metallic noises came from him.

"How's that for a lot of work? Meet your expectations?" 

You took in several deep breaths to make up for lost oxygen. The one grateful thing to come out of this was that it hadn't lasted as long as expected. The nauseous feeling left, and you slowly held your middle finger up at him without looking.

"Yeah. I'm great, aren't I?" He responded, laughing and leaving you on the floor.


	50. Puppets

It was all coming back, events from the past once completely wiped clean were haunting you again. As it turned out, some things were just unable to be truly dismissed by the entire cerebrum.

One piece; all it took was one piece for the entire memory to regenerate itself to where it felt like it only happened yesterday. So many memories...so many horrid memories. They rushed through your brain uncontrollably to where you had no sleep for over two days until it all finally started to slow down, leaving your head exhausted with aches. You took your own approach and replayed each one like a mental movie. At some point you were appalled at how much had actually been forgotten years ago.

However, when piecing it all back certain events made perfect sense and a very small detail you found odd in the past now came into light. The meds...the medication you thought was for something entirely useless was now making fucking _sense_! It was to tweak memory so you didn't grow up paranoid and broken.

Well, obviously it failed. Reminiscences meant to fester resurfaced and were back with vengeance. When thinking about it, a chunk of your life was literally coming back, and the ghost of your former past was irate. 

 _I had no control over it!_ You had argued with yourself, but your conscience refused to let your mind clear, not even to allow the littlest of rest. By the second day you came to terms with the stampede of gruesome memories. In no way was there peace, but you accepted that what happened had truly happened and there was no changing it.

With the truth of Candy's back in your mind, you weren't entirely sure which place was considered worse; Candy's, or Freddy's.

You laid atop one of Candy's party tables, hands folded and peering straight at the ceiling. Your spine had enough of sitting in a hard, un-cushioned chair, so you took the liberty of lounging in the restaurant in an entirely new way. Besides, who was to say otherwise?

"That's not really a place to lay on..." Victor's scratchy voice glided passed, breaking the calm and collectiveness you've been deprived of for close to seventy-two hours.

_Spoke too soon._

"Who's gonna give a flying fuck?" You said.

The only response was the sound of his feet continuing their path.

_That's what I thought..._

A faint smile touched your features over minor victory before you closed your eyes and relaxed again. Perhaps you'll be able to get a small portion of rest despite having him around—

 _" **Don'tfallasleep!** " _A voice arose, making your eyes pop back open. You frowned, feeling antagonized for a brief moment before deciding to ignore it.

_It's just all in my head...my mind that Peter shredded. No one's actually talking._

_" **You can't fall asleep. Not here, not now.** "_ It repeated again in a calmer tone, sounding more like a warning... But why would it be warning you, and what about exactly?

You adjusted your posture and let your hands fall to your sides. You yawned through your nose and slowly closed your eyes, starting the resting process all over again.

 _" **TurnaroundRIGHTNOW!!** "_ The voice suddenly cried—more like _screamed_.

It sounded so damn real...to where your ear drums physically cringed and you jumped back awake in full awareness. You immediately sat up, stage being the first thing in sight. Candy was normal, but Cindy's eyes were staring at you. 

 _No, she was staring at something_ behind _you._

You instinctively turned to see what had caught her eye. The only thing worth noticing was Victor sitting on a chair by the entrance of the kitchen.

Then the unnaturally delayed reaction finally hit.

_Cindy had actually MOVED from her spot!!_

Your chest felt like sharp nails were squeezing it. You snapped your attention back to the stage, cracking a few stiff joints in the rough movement. The feminine cat was staring forward as usual.

_That couldn't have been real, could it?_

You glanced back at Victor once more, slowly this time—to see if he noticed your weird, spastic actions.

He wasn't paying any mind. He was still in the chair, holding his arm out and—

 _Fucking hell!_ You almost said aloud when seeing what he was actually doing.

There was some sort of rubber tie on his upper arm being held together with his teeth. He was purposely cutting off circulation, making his veins emerge. You gazed, not daring to stop him. He revealed a syringe in his other hand, and you cringed, baring your teeth and feeling incredibly queasy when he stuck the needle into his arm and injected the clear liquid.

After he was finished with the odious action he released his oral grip on the tourniquet and let out an unsettling, satisfied moan.

 _The motherfucker was on more than just meth!_ You knew a handful of kids in school who did similar things. There was weed, and there was...the absolutely destructive stuff. You knew damn well that if it involved a needle of all things, it wasn't something to fuck around with.

For a few minutes he was eerily quiet and seemed to be relaxing in the chair. He tilted his head back and took in a few deep breaths before respiring normally again.

_" **You have to leave NOW!** "_

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?" You verbally asked whatever imaginary thing was talking.

There was a beat of silence, reminding you that the voice didn't exist and you were only making a fool of yourself when trying to communicate with it. Victor, who must've heard you, lazily turned his head to the side and grunted curiously, thinking you were trying to converse with _him_.

No way in hell were you staying in the same room with this crazy freak while he was about to be dragged through the effects of whatever the hell he shot into himself!

You finally slipped off the table and sprinted across the dining area, running down a hall.

The bathroom. You were heading towards the bathroom; a spot where one could be by themselves. When finding the door you bolted inside, turning the small lock it had and permanently separating yourself from Victor.

Feeling secure, relaxation soothed a portion of stress.

 _You're safe now. All you need to do is stay in here and wait out the next several hours before Peter comes back._  Your conscience said while you slid halfway down the door.

It started out as a mild dizzy feeling in your head. You guessed it was from all that running...

Light dizziness turned into an all out heavy feeling, making you almost fall forward from the unreal weight in your cranium. To keep balance, you grabbed onto the doorknob.

 _You weren't_ drugged _, were you?_ The question popped up, but was forgotten the moment you let go of the door and staggered to the bathroom sinks. Heavy feeling turned into throbbing pain in the back of your eyes and head. You peered into the mirror to see their current condition.

"Oh God..." You whispered when gazing at what was accompanying your reflection.

The marionette doll. 

It was the same thing Fazbear had for its future Prize Corner. And much like the one on your old hallucination trip, it was floating. Only it didn't have the normal smiling face.

Several major features were different; most notably the large frown and angry eyes sported. It flat out looked _furious_. Its cheeks and mouth were a deep blue instead of a vibrant red like Fazbear's puppet.

It slammed its long, creepy fingers onto the mirror as if it were trapped and madly wanted out. The face started to buzz and twitch like it was having a seizure. Out of seemingly nowhere, hundreds of words appeared on the mirror, etched deep and violently into the glass. There were too many to read them all, but most consisted of 'mistake' and 'problem'.

Even though it was impossible to focus on every one, two words inscribed in a random spot stood out:

**It's me**

As soon as these particular two were noticed, everything in the mirror blinked like static. All the scratched words had changed right in front of you.

**IT'S ME**

The puppet doppelgänger was included in the change. Staring back was the puppet belonging to Fazbear's theme. Far into its gaiety eye sockets were pin-sized white dots. It threw its long arms out, passing through the mirror like a real phantom and flew forward.


	51. Candy caper

*  
With cold months kicking in, deliverance of rain was not weather the town was wanting and with temperatures dropping so fast, this could only spell freezing cold. 

Today definitely marked the beginning of a soon-to-be icy torment. 

You were sitting stolidly with two of your friends. Nothing good was on T.V.—It was actually turned off when the weather man announced a high possibility of snowfall tonight. With it already being around eight in the evening, building clouds outside endorsed the weather man's accuracy on his prediction.

"Well, we can enjoy always _this_..." One of your friends said and held up a plastic bag filled with what looked like oregano. You hid your frown. This was clear evidence that he was still hanging around those older teens met at the park months ago... But what could you do?

_At least it's a harmless drug._

He wasted no time in rolling up and lighting, possibly showing off his skills on how familiar he's gotten with this stuff. He of course was first in taking a puff and coughing and then passing the joint to the girl. She joined in with no refusal. _Now_ you wanted a turn. This was sensed and the joint was passed over.

If there were any weaknesses it was that she greatly influenced you. You had your turn and quickly felt the heavy but relaxing sensation. Now things weren't so bad.

You were indifferent about the cold conditions outside, but some of your friends shared other opinions, the tough female friend of yours being one of them. The first complaint was thrown when the other teen male began to gripe nonchalantly:

"I hate it when there's nothing to do. I  **hate** it when the other dumbasses get themselves grounded. It makes things...lonely. Know what I'm saying? Why does it have to just be _us_ three? I mean...no offense, you guys are cool, but...things could be better...What good is a snow day when there's nothing to do with it?" 

"It would still be like this if the others were here." You said. Although his complaints were a minor annoyance, you agreed inwardly with how dull things were this evening, and to make things worse, it wasn't a school night. So, you had all the time in the world and nothing to do.

_No one had any ideas!_

You loathed the thought of this resolution, but the thought of leaving and walking all the way back home crept up. The painful silence was broken when the teen suddenly sat up straight and leaned forward.

"Heyy...I got an idea..." He dragged on his words in a stupid attempt to sound sly, and by the look of his smile, it would unequivocally lead to something no good. There was a remote number of guesses on what it could be as he was much more daring and careless than you.

"You know what's right by this neighborhood?" He asked.

"A street?" You answered smugly. The girl giggled, lightly fueling your ego.

"No, you dick. Caaaaannndyyyyy." He said. 

 _Was he wanting sweets?_ It made sense with how your stomach was now beginning to feel like you hadn't eaten in days.

"Candy? You're wanting cand—" You cut yourself off when coming to realization.

"Ohhh...hell no!" You outright declined.

"Oh c'MON! There's nothing to do here and I'm starving!" He begged. Your other friend was silent, waiting for the two of you to work it out, and would just go along with the outcome.

"That place is for kids, dude." You played a good card on why he should forget about the idea completely, but not before adding onto it.

"And I doubt you have cash on you. And aren't they closed for the night?" You kept going. Surely he would've gotten the point by now.

"That's rich. You think I'm wanting to waltz in like a customer and get grub _that_ way." He answered. Your head floated in a cannabis confusion, but you eventually put the pieces in place.

"You can't be serious." You muttered, temper still mellow from the drug's influence. Otherwise you just  _might've_  smacked some sense into him.

"I'm _very_ serious." 

You said nothing more. The next attempt to pipe him down was to stay silent with no actions. Maybe he'd sense the aversion in everyone else and cease with the stupid crazy intentions altogether.

" **[First Naaaame]**...." He continued, sneering.

"It's illegal."

This earned an obnoxious laugh from him, and to make things worse your other friend laughed with him. You were subconsciously ashamed of yourself for failing to impress her.

 _Were you really using this excuse?? After all of the stupid shit you've done in the passed few years that were completely illegal?!_ This is exactly what they must've been thinking.

"Right. Moving along; Haven't you skipped school a couple years ago and snuck into Fazbear's once?" He asked. The sudden reminder of this nearly pulled you out of your haze.

You remembered the other kid you met during your solitary stroll around a side of the small town that day, and how you thought he was pretty cool. You remembered the moment the two of you journeyed to Fazbear's, raced to the entrance like stupid preschoolers, waiting forever on him while he investigated inside, and...seeing a yellow Bonnie. You remembered every important detail all the way to the end where you ended up running off without the kid.

_He never came back out. You ran into the rabbit because you were trying look for him. But the kid never made it out._

There was still a mild disturbance by this particular piece to this day.

 _But the person inside of the Bonnie suit said he found him and convinced the kid to leave. You had just met the guy, so who's to say he didn't ditch you so you'd be forced to take the blame if there was any trouble?_ This, however, was another good point. You didn't know the boy for long, perhaps he was just good at wiggling out of situations and wasn't one to trust.

"I never actually went inside. I got as far as the front door before turning around and leaving." You left out key details of the other kid. For a while there'd be regret on withholding this information, but in retrospect, if you were to tell them a kid went in and never made it out, they'd most likely think you were trying to scare them. And to be honest, it did sound like a cliche ending to a typical children's scary story.

"You're set on this, aren't you?" You asked, knowing it was now or never.

Because of your determination on not looking like a huge bitch in front of the girl you had strong admiration for, you were freezing your ass off in less than twenty minutes. The flurries of frozen rain sprinkled your head and shoulders until the color of your clothes and hair were almost lost in white. There wasn't a single car in the Candy's parking lot, which was good news for the trio of you.

"I have this lock pick a guy made for me. Now watch and learn as I key this place..." Your male friend merrily declared when coming to the first barrier of a locked front entrance. You guessed he was referring to one of the older teenagers who introduced him and several others to stronger drugs.

_And now they were influencing him to break into private property for theft._

This assumption—most likely a fact—made you scowl again for a few seconds, a blob of ghostly hot breath leaving your nostrils.

"What's your plan if an alarm triggers?" You asked, thinking it was impossible for a place like this to not have decent security. It was a damned kid's place, after all.

"Gee, I don't really know. How does runnin' like hell sound?" 

"Our footprints?" You added onto the possibilities that could get you all busted by the authorities,  _if_ they were to respond. A literal trail would be left for them.

"Our footprints are going to be covered by snow in less than a few minutes. Just look behind you if you don't believe me." He replied, still working on the lock.

"Your negativity is killing me, **[First Name]**." He said next.

"And if you're thinking about asking if someone might chase us down in a car, then you're obviously a dumbass and don't know about the ICE everywhere." He continued, making the girl laugh.

"Anymore questions?" He concluded.

"Fuck you. And no. Now are you finished keying that thing yet?" You growled.

"I'm about to get it, I think. It's starting to turn. Now all I have to hope for is that it doesn't break and trigger something bad. Seriously though, be ready to haul ass if you hear—"

_CLICK_

A jolt of excitement rushed through everyone.  

There was a three-second pause. Everyone's legs were lightly bent and ready to sprint, but after a moment of standing there with no other sounds the sign of being in the all clear arose. The other teen hacked up a stupid laugh at his success in picking a lock by himself for the first time.

"Nice..." You were genuinely impressed.

"Now what?"

"You and your obvious questions..." He replied before pulling on the door. It cracked, frozen icicles falling from corners. You were all greeted with a thick fabric of darkness. Accompanied by the blackness of night, you were unable to see into the restaurant from your spot.

"Huh...I thought the windows were just tinted." He said, showing a hint of intimidation by the entrance resembling a desolate cave.

 _Where's your tough guy act now, asshole?_ You would've said, if you weren't sharing the same furtive behavior. Behind the doors was a small amount of space before total darkness. You couldn't see the floor or any of the pinup drawings.

"I'll go first. I have _this_." The girl offered, whipping out a lighter.

_Well that was smart! How the hell could you have forgotten to bring anything that would help you see in the dark??_

"I'll go in and make sure the coast is clear. Then I'll find some lights and turn everything on, so wait here. And if either of you leave me I'll stab your balls with an icicle."

"Be careful." You couldn't help but tell her before she slipped into the dark. The both of you watched as her small, lambent flame danced around while she descended further before disappearing around the corner.

"Try and find the kitchen first!" Your other friend yelled to her. She didn't bother answering him.

"Fuck, it's freezing. Can we wait inside?" You asked, tucking all fingers near your arm pits.

"Just give it a minute, man. She'll flip on some lights and we'll be good." 

To kill time you scanned the entrance and then the parking lot. It was still empty and the snow flurries were thickening, making it harder to see. You looked back at the front doors and a streak of memory hit; when you were waiting at the front door of Fazbear's while the kid you met looked inside. He never came back for you.

_He never came back!_

Despite the reasonings you had for this earlier, the terror of thinking something happened to him rose grimly and twisted up your nerves.

" _What?!_ " The loud voice of your bud made you physically jump in shock. The girl had said something and he couldn't understand.

You listened in this time and heard her muffling again from a far distance.

"I think she said she found the kitchen." He nudged you, growing excited. Before he could turn back to her the entire building went awry by her loud scream.

Terror. She was screaming in terror and your body threw itself into an overdrive. You yelled her name, frantic she wasn't able to get out.

"The fuck?!" Your friend yelped and you pushed him out of the way, ready to dive inside and rescue her, but she came bursting out on her own, knocking you completely over onto the icy ground below. She ran and didn't stop, clearing the parking lot in seconds despite sliding and falling many times.

The both of you yelled to get her attention, but she never turned back once, forcing you to chase after and follow her all the way back.


	52. Taking advantage

Not expecting such quick healing, the throbbing pain in the back of your eyes had subsided on its own. Everything in the restroom was calm with a soft ambience of the A.C above. All this authenticated that the ferocious events present just ten minutes ago were all a hallucination; words on the mirror, the puppets...

_But were they woven straight from your head, or was it a result of narcotics?_

Blaming it on drugs was quite a leap as there was no evidence of anything in your system. No doubt you believed Victor would do something such as spike you, but nothing in this restaurant had been consumed, so it wasn't possible. This left none other than your own mind.

You stretched out your back, cracking a few joints and thinking about how your own mind could glitch such images. It was more proof on how broken your sanity was, thanks to Him.

But perchance maybe not. Perhaps Victor somehow slinked something in your system when you were oblivious—all for the sick enjoyment of knowing you'd succumb to terrifying effects. Because that's the kind of morbid creature he was. Though again, how could he have pulled it off? You've already ruled out the possibility of eating something containing a "gift".

The image of Victor slowly stabbing himself with a needle popped up.

_His fucking needle!_

He could've used that nasty thing to stick you without your knowledge—

 _Be rational! If he nailed you with something sharp you'd fucking know!_ You contradicted yourself, though both arms under your sleeves began to heat up and feel itchy. Despite common sense you rolled up both sleeves and inspected. Neither arm had any visible wounds that spelled a slipped jab.

 _Arms weren't the only place a needle could go in..._  

This time your entire body felt hot and violated.

_Stop it. You don't have any damn drugs in your system._

_" **Then this meant that it came straight from the cranium. This was all you, buddy!** " _An old 'pal' came back, breaking the peace of this quiet sanctuary.

"So what else to you have for me?" You were literally challenging your own self.

_Throw something else at me. It's just all in my head, right? What more can it do that hasn't already been done?_

There was an interesting saying that went, "Your worst enemy is your own mind." Its meaning was vague the first time you heard it, but if there was an example that couldn't be more clearer to you, it's what was happening right now.

"Who's side are you on, anyway?" You verbally asked the fictitious being.

_" **There's only the puppet and the puppeteer's game.** "_

Was this only a mock?

All focus was severed when you felt the sudden feeling of arms snaking around your midsection. You gave no initial reaction, assuming it was coming from your imagination upon accepting the little challenge. Your eyes tore from the sink to the mirror, and you were given a reason to think otherwise. There was someone with a large smile resembling Peter's.

_But it wasn't him._

The smile was wide and perverted and cheshire, but the belonging teeth were not a perfect white. They were yellowing from so much drug abuse. It wasn't unnaturally perfect, it was unnaturally **imperfect**! The man these abominable teeth belonged to had long, dark, familiar hair, but not familiar enough.

And his eyes... _Good lord, his eyes..._ They were bloodshot and glazed, pupils needlepoints, but filled with stark energy. The vapor given off was beyond what one would smell from typical chemical cleansers.

_Victor!_

You whirled around to meet the narcotic pumped-man face to face. He had pulled his hands back just as fast, but kept his sick smile. Not after two seconds of pulling away from you did he close in again, but you shot a foot out and hit him straight in the chest.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You snarled after the impressive kick. He coughed and fell backward while you bolted for the restroom door.

 _It was supposed to be locked._  You recalled doing this a while ago before even making it to the sinks and hallucinating.

You pulled on them. They didn't move.

 _It_ was _locked._

You peered back at Victor, trying to render how the fuck he got in. He had broken his fall by landing against one of the walls in between each stall, his force causing every door to rattle. His eyes were closed for a moment before reopening and locking on you, shimmering with a cerise amusement.

A mangled grin touched his face again at the same time he held up a hand. He wriggled both his index and middle finger, showing off the dangling, noisy key ring.

"Isn't it funny how these doors tend to work?" He whispered hoarsely with bits of voice sewn in. 

"Hand them over....This  **will** get as ugly as your drug-bitten face." You threatened as best you could, but already knew it was a waste of breath.

He heaved up a few dry snickers before wriggling his fingers again, producing more jingling sounds from the many keys he possessed.

"Come GET them from me, Puppet." He dared, showing ardent hope you'd do just this.

You met his red stare for another moment before turning back to the door and releasing another mighty kick. You'd do whatever it took to get out of this damned restroom, even if it meant busting a leg in destruction.

The door made a loud, slamming objection, but didn't give. Not expecting success on the first try, you prepared yourself for another kick until Victor's arms came snaking around again and pulled you back.

"None of that." He said in a placid tone.

"Let the fuck **GO**!" You protested and twisted your body.

It wasn't the neatest punch, but you managed to throw a fist into his cheek hard enough to cause pain in your own knuckles. His head turned slightly from the blow, but his grip didn't release or even weaken. It instead tightened, tightened, and with one strong hurl, you ended up on the other end of the restroom, skidding to a halt on your side. He was upon in seconds, turning you over on your back so to face him. His smile slinked back with his glazed eyes predatory.

_Fuck, it was Him all over again!_

However, Peter's features were attractive as Victor's were almost repulsing. Once upon a time he may have been Peter's equal in physical appeal, but the damaging effects of toxic drugs had eaten away at everything that made him handsome and continued to rot him from the inside out.

_You couldn't find this attractive...Victor wasn't attractive...he wasn't PETER!_

You attempted in kicking out at him, but he had your legs pinned with his own.

"Whatever you do it won't hurt me. I don't feel pain when I'm like this...So go ahead, swing your mighty little fists and kick out all you want." He coughed up more dry laughter before leaning in and sliding his freshly wet tongue over your neck without even waiting for a reaction.

"Stop." You commanded, almost begging.

"No." He said in your ear, his hot breath summoning chillbumps. His tongue worked its way up to your forehead and then...he took the tips of several bangs in his mouth and began sucking on them.

_The fuck was he trying to do with your hair?_

You had a freak idea that he may just try and actually eat them until he released, the damp ends smacking you back in your face and sticking. He leaned in again and you could smell the rotting fumes of those drugs that were still fresh on his teeth, causing you to throw your head to the side, away from him.

"No." You whispered, refusing to let him even attempt mouth-on-mouth. Your body language made a desperate, silent deal; he could put his mouth anywhere so long as he kept the sour thing away from your own. He must've gotten the hint as he looked slightly disappointed but not too upset.

"You're no fun." He said in a hot, voiceless audio. It was slightly foreign since you were used to a more forceful opposition, but he simply cut his losses and began scooting down, taking a bit of weight off. Your muscles tensed, getting a slight urge to kick out at him now that it was possible despite what he told you about his "invincibility".

"Try it and you'll be feeling this needle in one of your legs. **Laced**." He gave his own threat after sensing this, and it was ten times more intimidating than yours, if not hundreds.

_NOW there was a reason to worry about a needle in your flesh._

Whatever he carried on him was much worse than anything Peter could have. You practically went limp, allowing him to subjugate you to his will.

He made a tuneless hum of excitement, knowing he now had complete access, and the first thing he went for were your pants. Without the belt it was an easy peel-away, and Victor was soon sliding them downwards off your hips, revealing a portion of your lower body and its private area.

 _Oh God, why? Why THAT?!_ You yelled in your head, trembling at the feel of his hand sliding down your abdomen to the lower area. His grip was surprisingly soft when curling his fingers around. Of course you weren't even "up", but he intended on fixing this.

_Go ahead and try. I bet you won't get much of a result._

Needless to say, it wasn't what you were expecting. He seemed to have a perfect grip.

 _No...He isn't Peter...Why were you enjoying this?!_ Your conscience berated while your chest rose and fell with thickened breath. Your eyes disobeyed every command and ventured toward the corner of your vision, getting a look at the man. Your mind was distorting again. His drug-abused features were fading away and—aided by a once forgotten memory—you started to see what he looked like before being wrecked by narcotics.

Dark seducing details that rivaled Peter's...

 _Attractive_. You concluded, feeling blood rush to the demanding spot and hardening more than enough for his liking. Next introduction was his slimy, long tongue, running along the sensitivity and enhancing its firmness. He stayed at it for quite a while before using his entire mouth.

The soft, engulfing warmth was too much for you to remain stolid. You'd close your eyes and gasp, letting it out with a sigh as he seemed to swallow you completely before pulling himself off. This went on several times until he stopped completely and wiped his mouth. He pushed himself upwards close to your face again and then settled himself beside you, grip still tight around.

Your eyes opened, but your head was kept in the opposite direction.

_Do not feed him attention. Just hurry up. He'll leave you alone when it's over with..._

You figured he'd leave your sight and let you exit the restroom once you "finished". All could go faster if you simply concentrated.

 _It shouldn't take too long_...this was no different than when Peter used you like a toy.

 _" **You LIKE being taken advantage of, don't you**_ **? _You're all for it_!** _"_ A voice came back and laughed.

"No I don't...I just don't have a choice." You whispered back without even realizing.

"Whooo ya talkin' tooo?" Victor asked.

"Heyyy...I've noticed how strange you've gotten. You've changed. Talkin' to things not there and all...acting paranoid. What'd my cuz do to ya?" 

He leaned into your closest ear and brushed it with his wet muscle until it was covered in his slime. Your panting was still going strong, gasping for air like you were drowning.

"It's alright..." He whispered, soft tone causing thousands of tingles to explode all over your ear and down to your neck.

"It's okay to be a little crazy. A little insane. It helps you fit in." He continued hypnotically and began pumping his fist even faster, making a moan escape from the pit of your chest, followed by your muscles locking up. 

The final results spewed out and fell onto the floor and part of your clothes. The bastard didn't even have the decency to cover you up and make sure things didn't splash on everything, causing a total mess. He let go and brought the hand that caused all the trouble to his mouth.

He began licking the remnants off, the sickening slick noises loud and sloppy. You would've shivered in a bad cringe if it weren't for your body being absent of any energy for the next several minutes.

By the time it recovered, you felt the wetness of his fingers travel along your face, like a caress. You finally hit your wall. You pushed away from him and pulled your pants back up in seconds. He stayed resting on his side, his perverted smirk crumbling to a scowl. He wasn't a big fan of the session ending as fast as it began, but he couldn't do anything more.

He stood back up while you stayed on the floor, spying the erection he had in his pants the entire time. He shamelessly adjusted them, making it easier to walk.

 _No. Fuck no. Don't even ask. I'm not doing anything FOR you or TO you!_ The refusal was silent, but very readable. There was no way you'd be helping him with his little "problem", and he was aware of this.

"Prude." He threw at you.

Having no other desire to force anything else, he headed to the door he locked to contain you inside with him. He fiddled with his many keys and got it to open quick.

You stayed immobile for several more minutes before scrambling and picking yourself up, using one of the sinks as support. Being so close to the large mirrors, you automatically scrutinized yourself, seeing Victor's saliva still gleaming on the skin of your neck. You immediately turned on the sink to full blast and caked on the restroom's hand soap, scrubbing until you almost gave yourself bad scratches before splashing the near-uncomfortable hot water onto every spot.

It needed to be hot. _To clean off the remnants of Victor..._

You continued until your entire neck was red from heat...but this wouldn't help with cleaning the rest of your body, especially when his mouth had been on a spot that was off limits to just about all but one person.

You waited for the latent groans of disgust to build up in your gut and tumble out, but none made their presence.

_" **You DO like being taken advantage of!"**  _


	53. Cherry ice

*

Everything outside bore thinning sheets of ice. The frosty weather lasted almost the entire week, but all that was left would be dying come tonight.

You were one of the very few students who weren't rejoicing the time off from school. There was one thing keeping your mood and emotions more numb than your own skin when outside for too long.

Your friend was gone.

She never recovered from that night. Within just three days her family had packed their shit and hit the road, just like that. All because of what happened the day before, when her mind had cracked... For a while you would continuously blame yourself.

_If only you hadn't gone to the damned restaurant..._

But after thinking on it you came to the conclusion that even if you had backed out, she still would've gone and probably have called you a much more vulgar version of the word 'chicken'. 

There was nothing you could've done to stop it... It still would've happened...Only question remaining was... _what the hell did she see?_

On this final day of the ice you decided to burn it by taking a lone walk through parts of town that weren't drowned in slush. You let countless topics whirl through your head to keep yourself preoccupied, but deep down it was just another attempt to keep sorrow off your mind. Although the outside air didn't feel too cold, your breath still resembled a thick-shaded ghost expelling itself from your mouth.

 _Or like you were smoking._  

A tickling thought, considering you used to pretend as a little kid. Now you did it for real.

Oh how the years went by...

Your reflective thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound of a car motor being gunned, followed by the wave of slush swiping the sides of your shoulder and legs. Whoever was driving must've had serious balls to risk wrecking their car from the road's present ice, all to take advantage of slush puddles and an oblivious teenager lingering a bit too close. You had at least heard the noise early enough to jump back and dodge the majority of what was splashed from the slippery road, but still...

_That fucking prick!_

Your temper hit its boiling point instantly. You managed to shield your face before impact, unfortunately missing the chance to see what the car looked like. There was an impulse of rushing around the block to catch up, which would've been foolish. Most likely you would've just slipped and fallen, further damaging your ego.

 _Just let it go!_ Though easier said than done. With the needle remaining in the red, your fists clenched. Your breath left your nostrils, thick enough to where it looked like you were about to spark flames. Your body no longer felt chilled and you were sure the next physical step would melt all the remaining ice around, but a cap was thrown onto your anger when you heard the pitch of a high voice.

" **[First Name]**!"

One of your sister's friends, the same girl who told you all about Fazbear death rumors.

_Cady._

She was running toward you in a hysterical manner. She slipped here and there but managed to keep her balance. Your hopes of nobody seeing the incident were put to death when you saw the warm clouds of laughter exiting her smiling mouth.

"That was hilarious! You're all wet!" She said, looking at the splash damage. Your anger returned swiftly, face heating back up.

"That was  **not** funny!" You almost boomed, your breath clouds dominating hers. You gave clear warning that you weren't afraid to ruin _her_ day if it came down to it, and certainly weren't afraid of the consequences (at the moment), either. However, second thoughts pulled the aggression back—not to mention your guilt. But contrition suffused her gaiety face.

"I'm sorry..." She apologized, truly meaning it. Your temperature cooled.

"No...I mean, It's okay." You wiped off the rest of the splattered half-melted ice from your clothes.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." You told her reassuringly. You shook your hands to clear off the excess melted ice and attempted to continue on with the lone walk, but were joined by the eager girl.

"Shouldn't you not be wandering away from home?" You begged the hidden question on why she was following, though you _were_ kind of wondering how she was able to walk this far without trouble from her parents.

"Mommy says I can walk with someone I know as long as they're older and safe." 

Although you would've normally preferred to walk by yourself and possibly tell the girl to go back home, you were oddly tolerant and allowed her to follow.

"So where are you going?" She asked. It was only fair to be curious, especially if she was going to tag along.

"No where. Just around here and then back home." 

"Oh. Why?" She asked next.

You lightly cringed, knowing this was to come.

"Because. I'm bored."

The two of you passed another block when you heard odd sounds from her. They were slurping noises; she was eating something and being quite messy with it. You peered down.

It was... a _snow cone_?!

"What IS that?" You asked the obvious, but still couldn't believe she was snacking on something like that in this weather.

"Cherry ice!" She answered.

"Want some?" She enthusiastically offered, shoving the small cup of red shaved ice in your face.

"Ew, no!" You weren't meaning to sound rude, but you were fairly grossed out at how she had licked all over the treat and then offered with no issue.

"Why are you even eating that in the cold anyway? That's something for the summer..." 

"They're my favorite." She said.

_Say no more._

"So you're not afraid to be away from your parents for a long time?" You randomly asked her in comparison to how Kayla was always glued to your mother's side.

"Nope!" She said.

"There was actually this one time where I got outta school early and walked all the way home cause I didn't wanna wait for mom." She joyfully kept explaining to prove her independence. She went to the same school with your sister which was on the other side of town.

 _That's a damn far walk!_  A grin curled your lip.

She reminded you of yourself when you were her age, though she still had a bit more "little kid" in her, but she was impressive nonetheless.

"You know... You're pretty tough." You complemented her, something you didn't think you'd ever do. Her reaction was a smile and a blush. 

"Do you think your mum will let Kayla come pl—" 

She stepped on a gleaming part of the sidewalk where the ice was still pretty frozen. Her foot slid and she gasped, immediately alerting you.

You acted fast, grabbing her arm and saving her from toppling to the wet concrete. The same couldn't be said for her frozen treat. It met the ground and was now part of the weakening slush. A streak of sympathy ran when you saw the ruined snow treat. She was silent while eying the remains.

"Hey, that's okay."

Interestingly, the rare big brother side of you was strongly going out.

"Tell you what, I have some cash on me. I'll get you something new." You gave a very rare offer, and her face met yours, her eyes holding disbelief but also pure excitement.

"You really mean it??"

"Duh."

"What can I get??"

"Uh...well, just name it. Think of something."

You could've offered candy, but it seemed a bit too stereotypical. However, it was to be brought up, but not in the way you would have preferred...

"Candy's!" She squeaked.

"It's real close!" She continued. Your insides went colder than the icy water around.

 _No, pick something else!_ It was very close to leaving your mouth. After what had happened days ago—

"Uh...alright." You reluctantly agreed. She didn't sense an ounce of your discomfort and only quickened her pace toward the direction of Candy's property coming up. Soon enough its vibrant building came into sight.

 _There aren't any cars._ You noticed, thinking this was odd considering it was a weekend. Perhaps everyone got it out of their system during the ice days. 

"Careful." You warned her when she decided to bolt.

She of course slid and fell and picked herself back up right after. She waited for you to catch up before approaching the doors.

"Awwwwww!!" She boo'd, pointing to the large sign that hung behind the first set of doors.

**CLOSED**

It bore large letters with a multicolored frown face below. You raised a brow, cold sensation returning.

_Did this somehow have to do with what happened with your friends that night?_

It couldn't have! If this were accurate then the whole town would know about teens sneaking in Candy's already...

 _It's just all a coincidence! The owner probably took a vacation from the weather and just isn't back yet._ This made more sense, and you calmed.

"Oh look! Someone else was eating cherry ice too!" Cady pointed to a strange color in the snow near the locked door. When your eyes caught it your stomach flopped.

There were drops of red in the snow. Not a lot; three or four. But they looked like they had been sitting there for a while and were beginning to slowly wash away with the melting ice, becoming more faint.

 _That's exactly what it is. Just...cherry ice._ Your mind raved, though the specks were a much deeper shade of red than what was in the trashed snow cone. 

"What about Freddy's? I think they're open."

You don't even know _how_ it slipped out. Maybe because the restaurants were each other's alternatives. Or maybe it's because you wanted to change the subject in your head.

"Okayy." She accepted.

"But then you'd have to take me home. That's a long walk though..." She felt discouraged on the amount of footwork you'd be doing.

"So? What else is there to do today? Build a snowman?" You asked. The girl giggled. 

"You're an ass sometimes." She said, her language and call-out catching you off guard. It made a laugh burst out of you.

"Where did you hear THAT word from??"

"Daddy." She answered. You laughed again.

You had a rare zen to where you didn't feel the slightest of awkward or embarrassed hanging out with this kid. Hell, you were even taking her to Fazbear's!

 _Some kids aren't so bad._ You discovered. This strong peace was also aiding your recovery from depression. Perhaps this day won't be so much of a waste after all...


	54. Doug and Rachel's

As Peter jadedly perused the finished check-lists after all other staff had left, you were pondering on a decision that didn't seem strongly important in disclosing, but also wasn't so small that it could be brushed under the mat, either.

Were you going to tell him?

 _"Peter, your freak of a cousin touched me."_ The statement perfected itself in your head several times, but the will to divert from any possible bad reaction and situation was somehow greater.

But why?

 _" **You like being taken advantage of!** "_ A familiar voice drove by.

"I'm changing things up for a bit." His statement interrupted your mental debate.

"What?"

"I'm sending you to Doug and Rachel's this time." 

_Doug and Rachel's??_

"You're affiliated with that place too?" You asked.

"Well yeah. Fred wasn't going to stand for much competition. His choices were quite simple, actually: Run them out of business or run them completely. A few months later he had the owner signing in all the right places and handing over the keys. Cause ya know...if ya can't beat 'em,  _join_ 'em!" He explained with hubris honor.

"So who's the glorious director over in THAT place?" 

"You'll find out here soon." He vaguely answered before putting the stack of clipboards away.

_Wonderful..._


	55. Bunny

*

Well, so much for Candy's, although you were secretly grateful. You and Cady, who was now seen as pretty clever and tough, eventually made it to Fazbear's where there were plenty of cars.

_Figures._

You weren't too keen on being around a bunch of other kids, but a promise was a promise.

"Alright, I'll buy you a pizza, but we aren't staying for any gimmicks and shit."

The girl gasped loudly, stretching her mouth to an O. It was your swear word. Even though she herself threw one out earlier, it was no where near as bad as yours.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"You used a reeeeal bad one!" 

"Yeah Yeah. I know, I'm sorry. Don't snitch." 

"Snitch?" She asked, never hearing the term before.

"Yeah. Y'know, don't tell on me; don't be a tattle-tail. That's what being a snitch means, when you tell on someone for doing something pointless. Or doing something bad, but...that's whenyougetolder—the point is, don't act like it's super bad that I said that. I'm buying you pizza, so cut me some slack." You shabbily explained.

"Okay, I won't tell." She agreed happily and followed you to the entrance, careful not to run again as she did in Candy's parking lot.

The temperature inside was invitingly warm. It wasn't as loud as originally expected despite the number of people. There were only small families here for the cafe part, killing a few hours since there wasn't much to do. The spaztastic Cady ran ahead to the counters. You took a short look around, noticing that neither of the stages were open yet. There were a couple of other teens close to your age. Most of them had their eyes glued to their hand-held gaming devices.

_At least you weren't the only teenager here._

"Okay, remember what I said." You grabbed the girl's attention after catching up to her.

"We're here to eat, not play or watch the stage shows."

"Duhh, I heard you the first time, _dad_." Her tough side kicked out again, making you smirk. An employee finally took notice in your wait and approached from the other side of the counter.

"Siblings day out?" He asked with a friendly smile, thinking you were her older brother.

"Actually, I'm just...yeah, day out. No party or games or anything, just here to eat a pizza." You went along. You told him the drink you wanted, only to feel stupid when remembering that this place had a soda fountain, meaning the customers filled their own cups.

Quick to stomp light embarrassment, you urged the hyper Cady to hurry and pick the kind of pizza she wanted so you could sit down.

_As far away from the stage as possible._

"Okay, two regular drinks and just one pizza. so it'll be—" He calculated the total cost when another staff member quickly came up from behind him, as if she was desperately rushing to stop something drastic from happening. She whispered a set of words in his ear before he could confirm the total.

A small panic bubbled in your gut, wondering if there was some sort of problem. A muffled conversation took place, and you wished you could read lips.

"What, why?" He lowly asked.

"I don't know, he just told me . . ." She answered with the first bit being perceptible, but the rest of her words faded back out into mumbles that only he could understand.

 _What the hell...Can I just pay and you can both continue your chat after?_ You thought, growing a little annoyed with the hold-up.

"Alright, but if there's an issue with this it's on you." He finally concluded and surrendered to given orders.

"Uh...there a problem?" You asked, still afraid there was something wrong with your business here. 

He tapped a few buttons on the register.

"No, actually. As it turns out, this visit's on the house. So...you're good to go. Apparently." He was still bemused but was in no position to refuse the instructions.

"Um, what? How's _that_ possible?"

"Hey, big dog's call, not mine. Are you family? Sometimes our families are exempted from paying for a pizza or two."

"Actually...I'm not. I don't know anyone who works here." You said.

His face grew more muddled, but you were finished with the strange conversation and just led your tag-along to an empty table.

"Did we really get all this for free?" The hyper eight year-old asked. Before you could answer her eyes darted behind you and grew even wider.

"Look!" She pointed, and you turned around to see a large yellow rabbit carrying a tray with two drinks.

"It's Bonnie!" There seemed to be no end to her chipper giggles.

You didn't fully trust that the person inside had a good depth perception while wearing this suit, let alone hold a tray of drinks with no issue. You spiked with uneasiness, imagining them making one wrong move and having everything spilled onto the table, or worse; on **you**.

You pushed your chair far away enough to be out of the splash zone if there just so happened to be an overturn of cups.

 _Wait, wasn't it the customer's job to tend to their own beverages?_  

So what the hell was this?

_Maybe they were just being extra polite today?_

This day definitely sparked some odd generosity...

The yellow rabbit carefully set the tray on the table. Cady immediately took hers and began sucking the carbonated drink from the provided straw. What seemed odd was that you didn't remember her telling anyone what refreshment she wanted. She just must've been going along with their "guess" without complaint.

There was a slight queazy feeling in your stomach. It wasn't like you thought this place was super dirty _,_  but it certainly wasn't gourmet quality either; It was a kid's restaurant. You honestly would've felt better had you gotten your own beverage... However, you brushed away your pride on standards.

"Thanks Bonnie!" Cady enthusiastically thanked the mobile rabbit when she finally took a breather.

"Yer welcome, princess!" The person inside did a damn good job at mimicking Bonnie's southern accent. It made her giggle again with a blush.

"Get started on yers too, bud! While it's still fresh!" One of the rabbit's large hands firmly patted your shoulder, making you jump.

"Okay...will get right on it." You dully assured him. You eventually leaned into the straw.

"I was scared we couldn't come in. I always thought Freddy had to invite you if you wanted to come here." Cady said.

"What?" 

"Mom and dad always told me that you had to be INVITED to Fazbear's, not just go." She explained.

You didn't move while the words seeped in, then you started laughing.

"Ohh...that old trick still works I guess."

She looked absolutely clueless.

"What, you didn't know that? Parents say that stuff so you don't try asking them. Truth is you can come here whenever you want. I mean look, there's no birthday parties here. People come in just to eat sometimes, just like with Candy's." You debunked the ancient myth. Cady's eyes widened at the blunt truth before she bore a face looking deceived and cheated.

"Hey you can't blame them. No one wants to sit here and listen to this shit all day." You justified the parent-made lies. Her face broke again after your swear word, but you retaliated with your own look, stopping the taunt in its tracks. 

You took the first sip of your soda. It wasn't a lot, just a taste considering you weren't thirsty. You swished the ice around with your straw before noticing something off about the flavor.

 _Was_ there something wrong or were you just imagining it?

You sampled it again, paying closer attention.

 _Yep, definitely the drink_. Frowning, you stood up and grabbed the cup, careful not to spill.

"What's wrong?" Cady asked.

"It's flat. I'm just gonna get another." You told her, not waiting for the yellow Bonnie to come back over again. You weren't even thrilled about him bringing beverages in the first place.

When reaching the soda fountain you poured out what was left. You found the clear button meant for water and pressed, using it to clean out the remnants before refilling. You planned on just getting a different kind, but with the first one being flat there was a worry that the rest of them would be no different, and you didn't want to risk coming back.

Cady's own drink may have disproved this thoery as she was halfway done with it already. But kids usually couldn't tell differences in texture and taste with sodas... Or didn't care.

You inspected the plastic cup, making sure the water looked clear enough before heading back to your table. On the way a vibrant color of something near the stage caught your eye. You looked over without turning your head and saw Bonnie again; the yellow one.

He stood motionless, staring directly at you. There were kids near him, attempting to reach out and touch, but they were anchored to their tables and weren't allowed by their parents to get up and run at him. Bonnie paid them no mind, anyway.

You raised a brow but lost interest when returning to Cady.

"Ew, water!" She teased.

"Don't say EW. It's healthy. Everyone needs it." 

"Not ME!" She said proudly, believing this. You snorted a laugh before glancing back at the stage because... _because you suddenly felt like you just_ had _to._

Bonnie was still in one place and hadn't moved, and his chilling gaze had yet to leave.

_What the hell does HE want?!_

You were getting agitated. The eyes behind the suit weren't very visible, but even so you saw a small flicker of anger.

_Are you pissy because I poured out the drink you personally served me? It was flat, jackass!_

You felt a little too defensive, but your attention yanked back to the table when Cady let out a small 'yay' in response to the arrival of food.

_Finally._

"Wait! We haven't washed our hands!" She stopped you from taking the first slice.

"Seriously?"

"Wash your hands, **[First Name]**!" She rose and headed toward the restrooms, and to prove she wasn't joking she grabbed an arm of yours and pulled.

"Jesus, kid." 

 _At least she's good on being sanitary._ You had to admit while drying your hands and coming back out. She had yet to return, but it wasn't a big deal. You went back to the waiting pizza and grabbed a slice, taking a bite.

 _Not bad._ You thought, remembering Fazbear's always had good-tasting food. It was down to the crust when you glanced at the restrooms but still saw no sight of Cady.

_What the hell was she doing? Taking a BATH?_

_She's not Kayla, who needs her hand held for everything. She can do this thing on her own without someone worrying over her._ You told yourself, but the tiny flame of concern didn't extinguish. You eyed the door to the girl's restroom for a little longer before realizing something strange but innocuous. It had been a little over fifteen minutes since you came into the restaurant and the stages still hadn't opened. You didn't know the exact time of their cycles, but it was well under fifteen minutes.

 _Maybe they just weren't running today._ You figured, but saw it as a good thing. You got to eating a second slice when—

" **HEY**!" Cady jumped out from the side with an excited yelp. You almost choked on your food. She let out a torrent of giggles.

"I scared yooou!" 

So the smart girl thought it'd be funny to scare you...

"But no, you HAVE to come over here. I was talking to Bonnie!" She started explaining. She had clearly finished washing her hands before you and ran off to see the character earlier.

_But you would've seen her. Bonnie was by the stage, wasn't he?_

You glanced over.

_No...no he wasn't. Not anymore._

Your chest felt as if you were walking back outside in the cold.

"What? What are you talking about? I don't want to see Bonnie." You refused.

Cady grabbed your arm and pulled again.

"But you HAVE to! He said there was free tokens for me and a bigger kid's room, but I had to bring you!" She went on with this new information that made your heart roll a few times.

She had the faux idea you were about to go with her when you turned around, looking at anywhere else Bonnie could've been. Something was immediately seen moving behind a far hallway, as if to stay out of view.

 _No no no...I_ SAW _that!_ Your mind yelled at whatever took cover, though you could most likely guess what it was; It was yellow and quite large.

" **[First Name]** , I wanna see the bigger kid's room. You don't have to pay for tokens because Bonnie said they were free! I can't go without you..." She begged again when realizing you weren't giving in yet. You kept staring at the hallway but never saw the yellow rabbit reappear. A sixth sense was beginning to scream.

"I... **NO**. No, Cady, I told you we aren't here for games." You refused again and her eyes became glassy, ready to spill the water works that may or may not be genuine.

"But it's free...You're not letting me?" She softly asked, her voice on edge of breaking down. 

"Yeah, I don't CARE if there's a big kids room or not. I'm not going for that shit! You shouldn't have left and talked to the fucking rabbit in the first place." The protective side of you was alive and clawing.

There was no consciously known reason for you to be like this, but this normally dormant side was unaccustomed in showing itself, and whenever it did it almost always had a damned good reason. Your powerful authoritative tone almost scared the girl and she let go of your arm.

"Yes, I know, I said the worst word there is, and you can tell my parents if you want, but I don't think they'll care when they learn that I was protecting you, which is my job if you're going to hang around me. That's what you're mother told you. And in case you didn't know, I would get beaten within an inch of my LIFE if something happened, so damn right I'm not letting you. I'm not letting you go off with a stranger, even if I'm there."

Her eyes wiped all over yours, feeling completely defeated and out of ways to try and convince you otherwise. To your amazement no tears left her.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping and all, but I am not comfortable with going off and doing this. You can ask about it again next time you come here. Your folks take you here all the time, don't they?"

The claws of your protective mood retracted, but this didn't mean you'd be up for the offer again. She moved back to her chair and sat down disconsolately to the pizza.

"Okayyy..." She submitted with no more fuss, but she was positively aware this rare chance would not be offered to her a second time. She was sure of it.

Your decision was final and she accepted this. She took her first piece of the triangular cheese-covered junk food and ripped a bite with her front teeth. Your appetite was gone before your second piece was finished, but you continued eating so she wouldn't feel lonely with her lunch.

Killing her fun brought out a massive swirl of guilt, but if there was one thing learned when growing up, it was that some things just weren't risking and that safety was the most important thing. Ironically, you wouldn't listen to these rules yourself at times, depending on conditions, but when things involved young children all fuckery went out the door. So there was zero shame in admitting that even though you hated these kids at times, you'd go out of your way to protect them.

 _Safety matters._ You restated, thinking about the incident with your friends days ago.

"Okay, I'm done." The girl said after eating almost half the pizza. Her words were music to your ears and she showed no hard feelings. She recovered her smile and the both of you headed back out into the cold for home.

And life went on...


	56. Doug

Well, the new trip to Doug and Rachel's wasn't exactly exciting, but it definitely opened up more knowledge on just how big and ascending Fazbear Entertainment was. What were once rivals were now basically cousins of the Fazbear restaurant.

"His name is Doug by the way, this next guy." Peter informed when entering the pizzeria.

" _Doug??_ " You repeated, having no trouble finding the humorous irony. After all, what were the odds?

"Yes. Doug runs Doug and Rachel's. Get it out of your system." He said impassively to the most likely worn-out joke.

So, how would this Doug person be? Experience said to expect yet another lunatic. Peter and Victor had their significant differences, but they also shared significant similarities, and obviously not the good kind.

_Well, the apple shouldn't be falling far from the tree. This outta be fun..._

You came to the conclusion that there'd be a third to complete the sadistic stooges. This joke brought a frivolous smile.

Before approaching the office there were shuffling sounds of someone frantically moving. Already you could tell this family member was under the boot of Peter as well. A low, audible grumble came from said Big Dog himself. By the sound of it he must've been prepared to see something in the office that would displease him and that he was used to this. Upon going inside and seeing the guy for the first time, your eyes widened almost _too_ much.

_It...was a KID! A damned kid!_

He didn't look much older than you. Eighteen, maybe nineteen at the oldest.

This was not expected at all, and as another add he gave off no dangerous aura. His eyes didn't project visual secrets that said he had quite a lot to hide from the light of day. In fact, he looked rather innocent. Only odd thing was how jumpy he was, considering he was close to skyrocketing out of his seat when Peter walked in. 

A major feature that caught your attention was the color of his clothes. He had heavy shades of red in his outfit.

 _Jesus, do all_ three _of these guys have some obsessive preference with a color?_

You now noticed each member had their own specific pigment to their uniform; Peter always wore purple, Victor green, and Doug red... unless it was just all a coincidence and Doug had a little variety, but you doubted this. The late teen quickly fidgeted with a pen, tapping its end on the desk he was pulled up to and eventually began writing on an envelope.

"Uh...Hey, Pete!" He greeted, but received nothing back.

"Alright, Doug. You already know what's happening. I don't need to explain myself again." Peter said with sheer assertiveness.

"Uhm...Absolutely. I got it..." He responded.

What was peculiarly intriguing about him was that he seemed to avoid eye contact with you at all cost. Every couple of seconds his furtive vision made a courageous leap in looking up at yours, but the moment stares locked he'd pull away and go back to scanning the papers at his desk.

 _Certainly he wasn't afraid to look at you?_ You wondered. There was no way Doug could be this soft. Peter wouldn't leave him in charge if he had a fragile nerve capable of being stomped on with little effort. Perhaps he was only like this when Peter was around.

"Christ Doug, you still haven't counted the drawers and filled out the paper work? Do I have to do _everything_ for you!?" Peter pounced with no warning. Surprisingly, Doug didn't jump at his bark, but his eyes held fear when meeting his glare.

"No...I mean, I can do it fast, I just...fell behind today. We have three new hires who just started earlier this afternoon, and I had to put a lot of things to the side so I could make sure they got proper training." His body language was that of a beta. He tensed up and looked ready to endure what ever Peter threw at him, even if it was a fist or two.

"Uh huh. Shape up. I pulled strings so you'd be the director here. Don't make me regret it. You know I'll be back in a few hours and all this shit better be completed and organized by then."

Peter stormed out without saying two words to you, and Doug was already putting all of his attention towards finishing the nightly work.

 _Well this was fucking awkward..._ So how the hell were you to introduce yourself?

"So you're him?"

As it turned out, Doug would be first to start the introduction. He asked this without looking up from his calculator he typed on at breakneck speed. It was a bit cringing to watch him hit each key so fast without fear of mistakes. Maybe this reflected his usefulness in running the place, showing he didn't need to be related to Peter just to stay in management. As for his question, it made things more simple than imagined.

_Just like that!_

There was no strive in his tone—he was phlegmatic when speaking. So, maybe it really  _was_ Peter who brought out the acquiescent side in him. 

"Uhh...Yeah." You gave a simple reply to a simple question.

"I can't imagine..." 

"Yeah, well luckily you don't have to." You said. Last petty hand-out needed was sympathy from one of these guys.

"Uh...well..If it's anything to you, I think it's all ridiculous. Stupid!" He stated. This at least caught a bit of your interest; Doug, who was part of this restaurant ring, had a rational opinion about it.

"Yet you're participating." You said. 

"I...I don't have a choice." He replied, abashed. 

How did he not have choice? _Was Peter putting a gun to his head and telling him to do this?_

 _—_ actually...this might not be far from the truth, knowing how the man could be.

"So your cuz tells you he jacked a random teenager for the shits 'n giggles and you're forced to go along with it?" 

"I wouldn't say 'random'." 

"Random? I'm not considered random? I've never known any of you before this. So what other category would I belong in?" You leaned back on a corner of the doorway, a little tired of standing. Doug took in a silent breath and said nothing.

"Yeah...fuck it. I'm already aware there's something stupidly special about me; he doesn't wanna say. So I'm just gonna guess you're aware of this little top secret information as well and are forbidden to tell me." You said.

"He's fucking crazy." Doug finally spoke again, lowly this time.

"Really? I thought he was all sunshine and rainbows." You jested, though there was genuine amusement in how Doug was the first one to call out Peter's psyche. Victor didn't do this, but then again he wasn't much better.

"I'm in this because it's mostly a family business, minus the large portion Fred Fazbear controls. My dad is his close friend and owns the other half. He's the one who gave us these jobs. Me, Peter, Victor..." He started again, but his reasoning wasn't making much sense. Was he trying to say he was forced into this because... _family_?

"I technically wanted to go off and work in mechanics. I'm really good in the field. I started here a couple years ago because my bro told me I could practice with animatronics and fix them whenever they needed it. To be honest they  _are_ fun to work with, but...c'mon, I don't wanna be stuck here doing this forever... I'll also say I didn't really know how fucked up Peter was until a few months into the job. I mean, I already knew how messed up Victor was. Growing up with him wasn't pleasant...he was—no, still IS a sadistic **bastard**. I'm starting to believe he was influenced by certain someone..." He ceased from stuffing papers into a folder when telling this.

"Pff. If it's influenced then you'd be one of them." You said.

Doug went back to filing.

"True. I guess the fucked up genes skip a generation or something like that. But he definitely shares it with Peter, and they're only like.. a year apart from each other. So he followed his every footstep over the years." He concluded.

It was interesting. Here Doug was, who you just met and learned wasn't an evil freak like the rest of his family, venting.

And you were listening. Kind of.

"Anyway. You lost me at the part where you were explaining how you were in this. You didn't really give me a real answer." You told him, patience depleting.

"Alright then..." He put the restaurant's profit in a bag, completing the last bit of work.

"Long story short; these guys are a lot more powerful than you think. My father and Fred actually have connections to the police. Don't ask me how, they just do. There's nothing I'm able to do about anything that may go on. I can either go along with shit or life can get pretty fucking difficult for me. That answer it for you?" He seemed more vexed than you were.

"And this might come as a big shock to you, but I didn't think Peter would go as far as actually kidnapping someone."

He ended the topic with this last comment. In truth this did come as a shock, but not in the way Doug was thinking. If he thought kidnapping you was the farthest Peter's gone, then he obviously had no idea about the deaths he carried out, and Victor's little deeds, as well. 

"So tell me, when you say they're sadistic what exactly are you meaning?" You renewed the conversation, striking disturbance in the kid.

"What? They just were. Or ARE. Both of them constantly talked about what they wished they could do with the animatronics and that they would be good weapons."

Well that settled it; this kid had no idea about the rest of the shit they did.

"Unfortunately I feel like their wish is gonna come true. There IS a project going on with animatronics having a high artificial intelligence and attacking people they see as hostile or dangerous."

"Wait—WHAT?" Your interest was piqued again.

"Yeah. It started at one of the police stations. There's a maniac there who helped make most of these animatronics you see in the restaurants. He worked on several private ones and slapped an oh-so-glorious idea on the table that he could make them super intelligent...and lethal. 'All for the sake of protecting the guests and children of course!'"

This was some of the most disturbing information you've heard in a while.

"Oh, and if you think  _that's_ crazy, he's already completed several and is close to getting them approved."

"How the fuck does someone make a lethal robot like that?" You asked.

"Here, I'll show you and explain." Doug hopped up from his chair and left the office. He was seemingly eager (oddly) to explain all this and assumed you were interested, shown by how fast he moved. 

You donned a bored expression but followed him through the hallways and passed the party tables when coming to the dining area. Doug leapt up on the stage and you stayed on the floor. He chose the dog to be an example as he explained the anatomy of what these lethal-bots were supposed to be.

He tapped on the back of the head.

"They're supposed to hold some kind of special memory chip in them. From what the guy explained their endoskeleton would be made from much sturdier material. And their teeth? Let's just say they won't be plushy and plastic like the rest of these guys..." He went on. The dog's dumb eyes, blank and rapt, gazed up at the ceiling as it was physically manipulated.

"Sounds...lovely." You finally commented.

"Yeaahhh. But other than that I love working with these guys. You wouldn't believe how strong and long lasting they can be. The outer material may not survive for too long, but their innards are like roaches in a nuclear explosion. You think they'd be cheap since they're in a kid's restaurant. Nope, not the case. In fact..." He randomly trailed on with machine-talk that didn't interest you.

"You're a talker, aren't you?" You interrupted.

Doug stopped and was quiet for some time.

"...Yes. Sorry." He apologized almost quietly. It became evident that you weren't the only one who's pointed this out, and that he's had many—probably Peter and Victor, mostly—pick at him for this.

"Wonderful." You said inaudibly. 


	57. Valentine

*

February 14 was a day you were indifferent about as long as your personal space wasn't invaded by vibrant scarlet decor of paper hearts and glittery gifts, though you didn't mind the gifts your mother and sister gave you the morning of.

One of your teachers was a bit over-zealous with the romantic holiday. It was an amazement with how she didn't get in trouble with all the decorations she went overboard with. When students left her class in between the bell, most of them would have specks of sparkling glitter on their clothes and perhaps a small piece of heart candy stuck to their pants after not realizing it was on their chair to begin with.

"Man, I feel like I just walked out of a Valentine strip club." A guy said to his bud after leaving her class for his next.

"You WISH you could go to a Valentine strip club!" His friend responded and laughed, brushing the excess glitter off his notebooks.

Hallways were no exception. A portion of the red and pink streamers festooned the lockers and walls. The rest, however, were on the floor before half the day was even over. Being that it was **the** day for love gifts, it wasn't uncommon for students to stick anonymous love notes and cards in other's lockers. Most of the popular students had the honor of opening their lockers and finding a panoply of red and pink shades fall out to the floor. 

 _Must feel good to be wanted_. You thought one year when witnessing this happen to a girl who happened to be the school's cheer captain.

The rare gifts came from audacious teens who plucked up the courage to leave larger presents on the desk of another before they walked into class. 

You moved onto your next class, which was the one where the love-hyped teacher resided in. You ignored passing students chatting about what they found in their lockers or bags.

 _Funny, if they found something like that on any other day, they'd be the opposite of excited. It's basically a day where creep is okay._ You joked bitterly, swatting away a rogue, fallen streamer.

You walked into the room and instantly became overburdened with a circus of pink and red confetti. The first person to enter earlier had scooped up a pile laying on the floor and decided to chuck it at the next person to arrive. 

"Seriously?!" You griped, brushing off the red and pink bits now littering your hair and shirt.

She only smiled and shrugged.

"There's a gift for you on your deeeeesk......" She sang. You stopped wiping away the splashed confetti, bemused.

"What??"

"It's big too." She sat on her own desk, swinging her legs back and forth in a playful way and pointing to your assigned seat.

On your desk was a large heart-shaped box. Around it was a scarlet bow. You approached, unsure of what to really think. This **had** to be for someone else.

 _Maybe someone left it! No way anyone would find you special enough to go this far_...

You looked back at your classmate.

"Do you know who put it here?" You asked.

"Newp. It was there when I got here." She said.

"Maybe someone from the last class just left it here." You said back.

For a strange reason you just couldn't comprehend someone slipping you a large Valentine's gift like this one.

"Nope. It's yours—It's got your name on it." She explained before you could ask her anything else. Your heart started to race as you picked up the box and inspected. You found what you were looking for when a fancy tag became visible.

 **To** **[First Name]**

"Well...okay then."

What were you supposed to do, celebrate?

Next wonder to hit was who on Earth it was who gave this to you. As far as it was known nobody had a crush on you. There was never anyone to follow you around or try to randomly talk to you.

You looked back at the girl; what if  _she_ was the one behind this? She glanced back and noticed your hard stare, reading your mind. 

"Don't look at _me_! I told you it was already sitting there when I got here." She was quick to rectify, and you eventually slumped into your seat and waited for everyone else. 

A half hour in you were granted permission to use the restroom. It was oddly serene with there being no decorations overflowing the space. What was more relaxing was taking advantage of the empty lavatory by pulling out a single cigarette and enjoy a puff.

With the school never installing a smoke detector in its bathrooms, many students took forbidden breaks. It was easy to get away with as long as a kid blew the smoke into a stall and not fan it around. The downside was that you couldn't get very many hits without producing too much smoke to hide. You were on your second when someone else came walking in, fear hitting like a sack of bricks. You calmed a little when realizing it was just another teen.

He had seen your cigarette, so the next problem was figuring out if he was going to snitch or not. He looked a little familiar. You only remember seeing him in the hallways and in the cafeteria every other day. Other than that you never talked to him. He was a grade below you, anyway.

"Shit..." You said.

"It's cool. I don't care." He said back, obliterating your panic.

"Ah. Gotcha."

You took the last puff you could get and tossed the cancer stick into the toilet.

"If anyone asks it came from a teacher." You told the younger, who whipped out a pack of mints for offering.

"Oh...thanks man." You accepted the small help. You were grateful of course, it wasn't every day that a student who wasn't a friend was this generous.

"Hey before you go, I have to ask..." the kid started and then suddenly looked like he was too nervous to continue.

"Uh...yes?" You were steadily losing patience, that and you were running out of time to get back to class without being questioned on why it took so long.

He scratched his face and did a terrible job in hiding his blooming smile. 

 _You didn't have time for this._ You decided to just forget about it and returned to the halls, until he bolted and followed.

"Did you get the thing that was on your desk??" He asked fast.

"What?" 

"The V-day gift on your desk. You got it, right?"

"Yeah, why—"

A newer panic rose when you realized why he was asking. A quick study of his body language revealed the rest; he mimicked the behavior of someone talking to their crush.

His crush on **you**!

 _Oh God.._. Your mind dreaded when finding out someone from the same sex had the hots for you.

"Did you like it?" You could see the hope in his eyes. Hopes that his brave efforts would pay off. For a number of seconds you avoided eye contact, trying to think of a reply (along with an easy let down) within the amount of time you had left before going back to class.

"Dude..." You started with something a little immature but harmless.

"I get what you're trying to do and all, but..." You searched for more courage on facing reality that you were having to reject another male.

"You seem cool and everything, but...that's not...I'm not like that. I'm sorry."

Surprisingly he didn't look upset.

"Some guys just aren't aware. I mean!...They're confused, and all they need is encouragement." He said, still smiling.

"What? No...I'm not 'confused'. I KNOW I don't play on that side of the field." You answered, feeling more weirded in having to explain yourself.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. Yes I'm **sure**." You answered and headed back to class without any more delays this time.

How were you not sure on your own sexual orientation?


	58. Tracked

_" **You're nuts.** "_

You had the displeasure of hearing another voice when finding a remote spot at one of the party tables to sit down and relax while waiting on Him, whatever the hell he was up to. You tilted your head back, attempting to drain away the day's stress. It was a poor idea but the thought of ignoring something until it goes away seemed like a reasonable resolution. 

 _Ignore it. It'll go away. It'll allll go away once it realizes you're refusing to feed it attention. That's how it works, how it always works._ It's what you figured.

It was funny, though; such a lesson was never seen as important. Not until now and not because it stayed with you so well. Because you became so damn desperate that you searched every corner in the sane parts of your mind to try and figure out a solution to help you cope with rogue thoughts and voices that seemed to be _against_ you holding onto yourself.

 _" **You're pathetic if you just sit there!"**_  

You put your hands on your face and traveled them upwards. Nails digging in dark violet hair, you began to squeeze the sides of your cranium until you felt the pulse in all your fingers combined.

"Shuuut uup..." You growled a hot whisper. You were long past the point of caring about how insane you were for talking to something that wasn't there. When everything was quiet for over a minute—seconds actually counted—you released your painful grip and slid both hands back down.

 _I'm still in control._.. You thought while calming. It was your last claim of triumph before feeling the terrible stinging of being smacked hard across your face, causing you to actually fall over onto the floor. You physically gasped from shock and almost hurt yourself whipping your head back to see who the culprit was.

There was nothing near you or even in the dining area.

 _No way that was from your broken imagination?!_  

It couldn't have been. The side of your face was even beginning to burn with a minor swell.

You jumped to a conclusion when the rest of your body was invaded by goosebumps, in courtesy of the icy air slowly engulving the atmosphere, making you think back to when you saw the black rabbit-looking mass long ago.

_It's returned! Goddamn, it's fucking come back!_

You panicked and scrambled off the floor, praying the lights wouldn't die on you this time. You managed to pick yourself up and run to the only available place you actually felt a fabric of safety in. Tearing up the hallway, you almost missed Peter's office, peeling out and grabbing the door jamb. You bolted in and slammed it shut, sending a shock wave through the wall and causing whatever was hanging to shutter and almost fall. To your next surprise Peter wasn't in here.  

_Then where the hell **was** he?! _

It was after closing, meaning he was supposed to be finishing up the rest of his work reserved for after hours, forcing you to wait until it was all completed. _Because he didn't like anyone in his office_. This remembrance sent a new but smaller panic. You were basically trespassing, but there wasn't enough courage to go back out into the hall.

_Fuck that!_

After examining the room over a dozen times you noticed his desk was littered with many random papers. It was out of character considering he was usually on top of keeping everything clean. Now it just looked like Victor's desk.

A short-lived smirk touched your face. 

When calming down and staying relaxed, your curiosity brought you over, getting a closer look at the clutter. You spared a glimpse at the security footage, thinking it may help in finding the missing man. Every screen showed vacancy, including the dining area where you were disturbed. Nothing else was messed with except for the disturbed chair. Other than this everything looked serene.

This couldn't have been from your mind...

_You FELT the strike!_

You touched the side of your face just to make sure it was still swollen. It was no longer hot and stinging. Instead it was cold, but nevertheless still swelling in defense. You abandoned the confusion before fear could rile you up again.

You glanced back at what covered the desk, noticing a folder amongst the litter. By the looks of it it was aged and had been in Peter's possession for a long time. The corners were soft and dog-eared, the spine torn. If it went any longer it just may give way. The color, which was originally an orange (at least you thought so), was overall faded with a grey hue resulting from years of dust and dirt.

 _He's had this thing for years._ You realized.

 _Why?_ Was the question.

An even better question was why he didn't just buy a new damn folder instead of keeping the same dirty one. With how much of a neat freak he tended to be it didn't make sense; why keep a piece of garbage amongst sanitized belongings?

Placing several fingers on the folder, you used your thumb to open it. Honest to God you weren't sure what to expect when looking inside. You knew it had nothing to do with Fazbear's or employment, otherwise it would've at least been labeled. The contents drilled in so much anxiety to where you didn't know what to scan first. There were papers sitting inside the pouch, but there was also a stack of small photographs paper-clipped together. You pulled it out and removed the clip. You peeled off the first photograph, peering hard.

It was... _just of the town's park?_

Well that was pointless! Why would a picture of the park be so meaningful to Him?

You finally noticed something _in_ the park that just may have been the reason for the picture. It was a group of kids. Not children, but teenagers. They were gathered in a tight-knit circle. It was obvious they had no idea about the photographer's presence. You set the photo on the desk and looked at the next one.

Chillbumps hailed again.

It was of the same thing, only now the teens had broken their circle and were looking in the photographer's direction. And one of them stood out.

 _Fuck..no..nooo_..

You were in a short denial before it all came back:

The day you were at the park with your friends, hanging around a few older kids. You were smoking and one of them introduced weed to everyone.

Without staring any longer at the photo, you ripped it away and let it join the first on the desk, looking at the next. And then the next.

It started from the park to being by a few neighborhoods, and with only one teen now;  _You_.

The stalking car was his.

You instantly flashed back to the most recent moment where the purple car was seen (not counting riding in it); _behind Fazbear's near the dumpsters_. You felt like an idiot for not being able to connecting things then. His vehicle gave off ominous vibes, but you didn't fully remember  **why** until you were brought back to the good old memories of being stalked.

You flipped through the rest and got dragged through memory lane again. The last several had different lighting—definitely taken on some other day, hence all the ice in the photo. _Or was it slush?_ There was another teen by himself, walking along the street and having know idea his photos were being taken. It didn't take a wild guess on who they were.

This was the day you treated Cady to Fazbear's.

Your pulse rose and your hands nearly trembled. You threw the remaining photos on the desk.

He was the one to follow you this whole time...

_Had he been tracking you?_

You were starting to believe his explanation on how you weren't just some random guy he picked off that fateful day. You had been valuable to him for a much longer time.

You looked through the papers next, pulling out the first. There were random words—printed out names of locations in the town. Several were circled, some where given dates in ink next to them, one of them being the park.

_You were so valuable that he had to keep a fucking track record throughout the years._

Your palms heated up and you were close to crushing the folder and sheet. Despite the fiery urge, you decided against violent impulses and tossed the rest of the sick information on the desk. The haze of anger was too thick for your senses to focus.

"Now what did YOU go and find yourself?" A low voice sent a zap through your system. You whirled around to face the doorway which held a content Peter. He didn't look angry, but there was _something_ on his mind and it didn't seem to have to do with you rummaging through his belongings.

His breathing seemed heavy yet partially calm. His hair stuck to his forehead and the office light gave the opportunity to see his pupils again. They were tiny and wild. His mouth was curled into a small, crazed-looking smile, and you could perceive that it had to do with his recent actions.

There had been a tremendous measure of adrenaline pumping in his system. He was coming off it by now, but you knew there was something extreme going on earlier that sent him into a rush...and you weren't sure if you wanted to know what that _something_ was. There were better questions on your mind, anyway.

"The fuck is all **this**?" 

"Business that doesn't concern you." He replied, face settling to smug.

"Oh yeah. If that were true it wouldn't be all about **me**!" 

"Huh...Good point." He admitted but wasn't moved by the hostility, as usual.

"How long were you doing this??"

"Long enough."

His answers were too vague. You closed your eyes and fished into memory. First one to came to mind was the one involving the last picture seen; the day you took Cady out to Fazbear's because Candy's was closed. It was the day you had to actually be cross with her like a parent because she was begging you to come see Bonnie.

_Bonnie._

Your eyes reopened. The fucking rabbit that tried bribing Cady.

 _"I have to bring YOU!"_ Her old words came back.

"Did you try doing this in the past?!"

He looked slightly muddled.

"You were in the Bonnie suit that day. It was **you**. You told Cady to come get me." You said, wanting him to own up to this.

"And?" He replied, not seeing how you were so worked up.

You glared.

"Hey, at first if you don't succeed, try try again." He chuckled with complacency. The words foreshadowed on when he was finally successful in kidnapping you; because he failed to do so on the day when you were treating Cady. Dodging such a situation that could've had you here much sooner made your legs almost give out.

 _Be grateful it didn't happen_ then _. Cady would've been there to see it. Who knows what would've happened to her_.

Even this fucked-up situation had its silver lining.

"Yeah. And you know what?" You said, looking back to him.

"Wut?" He asked, most likely preparing for a smart-ass response or insult and was planning out a rejoinder.

"I'm fucking glad you were successful in the Fredbear suit instead of Bonnie." You answered. There was a hint of more perplexity in his expression, but you wouldn't be saying anything else. He let you move passed him and leave the room. The initial fear of paranormal activity in the dining room was forgotten about.


	59. Malfunction

You nibbled on the waxy skin of a red apple gifted from Him earlier.

"Some call it the fruit of knowledge. Don't be afraid of brightening up that dull brain of yours is what I'm saying." He sneered when handing it over.

"Oh haha—fuck you." You riposted but kept the fresh food. Now it was finally being eaten while Doug's uninteresting words came and went without miss.

There _was_ a small amount of credit he was worth giving. Not much, but something; he wasn't demented like his relatives but he was up there on the abnormal list. He went on and on about all the shit he went through when he apparently had to fix half the animatronics here. Why he was sharing this useless information was unknown.

Out of pure boredom you actually went down a mental list to check the differences between he and his brother: 

Doug knew a lot about the animatronics but he wasn't creepily obsessed with them. Doug wasn't a junkie. As far as you knew he wasn't responsible for any deaths. And a big importance, Doug wasn't a Goddamned pervert.

You were late on adding one last fact to the list;

He didn't seem hellbent on manipulating or messing with your mind, although what more could be done? Other facts aside, what had your attention overall was how he did nothing to fuck around with your fears or temper. He showed no interest in behaving morbid. Sure, he was a tad annoying but that was it.

He chatted your ear off. Nothing more. His topics were dull but they weren't anything concerning. You sewed the facts into ideas of what may possibly be going on with him.

By this time you had blindly set the fruit back on the desk, not realizing it was too close to the edge. You didn't have enough care to reach down and pick it back up, so it was left on the sheen, patterned floor. You first thought Doug didn't seem to care either until remembering how much of neat freak he was. He just hadn't heard the _splat_ thanks to his own voice. You forgot about the mess and went back to your mental experiment with the kid.

 _Was he just wanting a friend?_  

That was it.

Fucked up way on how the two of you met or not, he wanted a friend. He was trying to get you to connect with him like some lonely classmate. You were the only person he seemed comfortable with. Least you forget; you were close to his age.

Digging up more clues and making sense out of them, you figured the boy was obviously intelligent, but he seemed to lack proper social skills, especially for someone who had just opened the door to adulthood—shown by how he'd never change a topic or ask if  _you_ had anything interesting to talk about. It all came from him and he always expected you to listen.

With the evidence and theories tangling together, you became overworked to the point where your head throbbed with the beginning of a headache. You forcefully disposed the idea of pinpointing Doug's problems and what it meant to not have to deal with him like you dealt with Peter and sometimes Victor. Even after dismissing the entire thing you still believed the single theory about him trying to make a friend out of you.

"Ugh! How did that get there?"

You hadn't heard him walk back into the office. He managed to finally spy the mess.

"Oh...yeah. That's mine. Sorry." You mumbled.

"Do you mind?" He asked.

You leaned down without much effort and grabbed the apple and tossed it into the nearest trash.

"Gross, now it's gonna sticky up the floor." He complained, leaving the office and coming back a minute later with paper towels and a spray bottle. Not wanting him so close, you pushed on the desk with your foot, rolling away from the general spot while he drenched that part of the floor.

 _It's not that big of a deal, man, chill._ You thought when watching him scrub the floor like he was trying to rid mold or something else worth so much physical work.

 _Jesus, you're worse than Peter._ You added, thinking about how the man liked being neat and tidy, but wasn't obsessed to the point of being unhealthy about it. A funny thought traveled in your head.

"Hey, what would you do if you were in Victor's office right now?"

You knew the answer would be hysterical since Victor tended to leave foods that were on the stale side laying around.

"Oh hell..." He started, cringing by just thinking about what lay in his brother's office as he spoke.

"Probably kill myself." He said, exaggerating as predicted. He finally decided his scrub job was enough and discarded the used paper towels—he may have wiped off more dirt than actual apple remnants.

"Stop being such a slave to sanitation." You said.

"Can't help it."

"Why not? I'm not understanding how it's so important to you."

"I don't know, man. I guess it formed years ago when Vic started getting into drugs."

"How would that affect you?" You questioned.

"Again, I don't know. But I'll say I started going at it when his own sanitation became more and more...what's the word? **Lazy**." He spoke while prodding his fingers on the spray bottle.

"Dad didn't show much care that Vic had gotten into drugs. Y'know, he kind of resembled Pete for a long time. I guess he looked up to him as a role model, 'specially since their ages are so close." He stated.

Well, this much was known.

"I mean, he wasn't  _that_ bad. He just tended to leave trash out for days. He'd get around to cleaning things eventually but not before I'd hear dad's fuss over it. You can understand why he'd be pissed over one of his restaurants being trashed. So to keep it peaceful with the family, I started cleaning up after him and would make sure things were spotless so no one had room to complain about anything. I was looking out for him I guess... And then it just stuck to me. Everything has to be spotless or...chaos will ensue. That's what my mind thinks at least." He rambled on, reminding you that he didn't know when to stop. You drained most of it out yet again until a few parts caught your interest.

"Wait, you worked with him at one point?" You asked.

"Yeah. I started at Candy's a couple years ago. I had my ass rode by Vic constantly, but he in turn would have his own bitten off by our father. But this was back when we were monitored by him. I haven't heard from him in...quite a long time, actually." Doug said. He seemed a little bothered by this piece.

"You don't talk to him?" 

"Well...I personally try, but Vic doesn't. He doesn't care. And when I try I don't succeed often. Dad was a huge hard ass but he's still family, y'know. He and Fred tend to disappear from town frequently. I can bet money that if I tried calling one of them now, they wouldn't answer. And even if they did, they'd cut me off and ask if the restaurants were doing fine. I'd tell them 'yes' and that all is going well and then they'd cut me off again, saying to contact them if there was a big problem that Peter isn't able to fix, then hang up. Cause...well, Peter has the keys to everything when they aren't around, which is ninety percent of the time." He explained.

"Do you have any idea where they go?" 

"I tend to think it's mostly all vacations for them. They used to run these places until us three got to the point where we could do it ourselves, then they eventually kicked their feet back and relaxed. I don't blame them. They worked _this_ hard, so..."

 _Alright, time to ask a more serious question._ You decided whilst the teen was comfortable.

"Answer me honestly; do they know what the three of you have been doing?"

You had to ask  **that** question; referring to kidnap and imprisonment. 

His face adopted an unwilling, masklike quality and he avoided eye-contact for close to a minute. He gripped the spray bottle harder and straightened out his posture.

"I...I don't think... I don't know. I don't." He started out jumbled, trying to pull his words together, only to finish out with an adult lifeless tone, denying access. It was fascinating to see him go from artless neat freak to authoritative guard. It was unexpected but unsurprising. You let it go when realizing the answer didn't matter. But you still knew more than Doug himself. This much was true. You knew Victor and Peter tended to murder the youth, but Doug had no idea.

 _You're related to them but you have no damn clue on what's truly been going on this whole time._  You frowned, finding it pathetic how he thought he knew everything, but clearly didn't.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go clean off the animatronics. Starting with Ray." He informed and left the office. You rolled your eyes but wheeled back to your original spot near the desk.

 _Shouldn't be so pissed with Doug. He was still so innocent. He's just under harsh orders._ You reminded yourself. But this also proved Peter's supremacy over the restaurants and these relatives. He was the oldest amongst the three and was most trusted by the original owners. If there was a pyramid, not counting Fred and the other guy (whatever the hell his name was), Peter was on top.

Boredom returned and you stared at the video footage, watching Doug pull Ray out from his hut before wiping down his eyes first. You saw the raccoon twitch continuously, his eyes lightning up bright enough to be seen by the cameras.

 _That's weird._ You thought but guessed it as normal with how the mechanics were. What _wasn't_ normal was Doug backing away like there was something terribly wrong. You sat up and moved closer to the screen. You didn't hear him from the office, but he was speaking. His mouth moved for a couple seconds before he reached into his pocket and whipped out a flash light.

_Why?_

Out of nowhere, Ray threw his head forward and slammed his jaws shut on Doug's head, sharp, handmade teeth penetrating the top of his forehead before pulling away just as fast. _Now_ you heard noises. All the way from the office. There was growling when Ray bit down, along with crunching—the crunching of Doug's skull. And his yell.

"Oh God!" You let out by instinct and jumped to your feet, but felt paralyzed.

_That didn't just happen...That DIDN'T just happen...DID IT?!_

The late teen staggered backward, head now a fountain of his own fluid. He dropped the flashlight and fell to the floor on his back. He struggled in lifting his hands to the large wound, most likely in attempt to stop the bleeding.

Breaths came in and out of your mouth in large waves, and you thought you were about to hyperventilate. The animatronic was motionless and hadn't moved since he bit the human cleaning off his eyes just a second ago.

 _Was he gonna come for you next?_  This plausible theory almost made you bolt from the office in hopes of reaching the exits. _But you couldn't._ Doug had the key on him. And he was still in front of that fucking monster.

So  **then** what?!

Your eyes zipped over the desk and saw the landline.

_You had to get a hold of Him._

You grabbed the phone and (barely) punched the number to Fazbear's that was conveniently written on a nearby sticky note, which also held the number for Candy's.

" _Pleeeeaase_..." You implored in a whisper while watching the animatronic on screen continue to be immobile.

"Yeesss?" The dialing signal was replaced with Peter's answer. From the sound of it he expected Doug to be the one on the other end and was waiting for the kid's annoying questions to start raining down.

"Thank Christ..." You said out of impulse.

"What?—What are YOU doing??" 

"The raccoon thing...it fucking BIT him. Doug, it ATTACKED Doug!" You blurted out, trying to keep the sentence together.

"...Run that by me again?" 

"Ray the Raccoon?? That fucking animatronic attacked Doug. He's fucking on the ground bleeding to death!" 

"Well, shit..." Was his unbelievably impassive reaction. You heard him groan over the line before speaking again.

"Uuugh...I knew this was going to happen at some point..." He stated right after.

"How the hell did you KNOW this would happen?!" You asked in a partial yell.

"Keep your damn voice down!" He barked.

"Look, to give you a quick long story short so you know exactly what's going on, some animatronics were designed by a police man. So they're not your average cuddlebot." He started.

"Wait, I know what you're talking about. The things are like...part entertainment...part weapon." You said.

"So you know?"

"Yeah...but they were never put in the restaurants, I thought." You replied. Your eyes darted to Doug again and then back to Ray.

"No, not true. Otherwise Doug wouldn't have been attacked obviously..." He said.

"That raccoon is one of them."


	60. Robotic rabies

"You gotta be fucking kidding...They actually put one of those destruction machines in this place??" You said, trying desperately hard not to yell again.

"Did I stutter?" He responded.

So that was it. You were stuck in this related-to-Freddy's knockoff with an artificial intelligent robot built to destroy. But built to only destroy criminals scanned as suspicious in their programming... You remembered this part. 

"But even if the fucker's programming malfunctions or whatever, aren't they supposed to leave kids alone?" You asked. This much was true; the one barrier that couldn't go wrong in these creations was that they'd never go after a child.

So why _this_?

"You aren't wrong on that part." Peter confirmed, but you could already sense the bad news about to follow.

"However...I'm afraid only the little tykes are clear in their systems." His tone drifted more to genuine unease. 

_Only the little kids were safe._

You weren't a full grown adult but you weren't a child, either. There were no in-betweens with these bots. Either you were a kid or you weren't.

You weren't safe, _that's_ what you weren't!

 _" **Comingtogetyewww** "_ A random, distorted voice flew by. 

Your fate was sealed if you didn't get the hell out. You took another glimpse at the screen to check on Doug, whose condition was worsening. His head was laid back with his hands no longer on his skull; they were beside him, red-coated and slick.  

" **Listen to me**." Peter re-grabbed your attention. Your eyes rebounded from Doug to Ray, who hadn't moved from his spot near the hut.

_As long as he was still standing there..._

"There's a way to shut him down. Simple, actually. All it takes is a flashlight—"

"The fuck am I going to do with a flashlight?" You asked, not believing there could be such a method.

Peter was impressively calm, despite being interrupted.

"You flash it in his eyes. The light triggers his mechanics to shut down and reset. Only takes about three shines. Then you should see the lights in his eyes shut off and he'll slump down, possibly fall. So expect either to happen. Or both."

"Then where's a flashlight?" You asked, forgetting about Doug's, though it was impossible to reach without the animatronic seeing, anyway.

"The drawer right below where the phone sits. There's always one. It's a policy." He explained, and your shaking, free hand blindly felt for the pull.

In less than a second you turned away from the footage and glanced inside the drawer and threw your vision back to the screen. Ray still hadn't moved, and you had grabbed the flashlight stuffed in the drawer.

"Okay...now what?" You asked. 

"I told you; flash him in the eyes." He repeated, but it was already known; you obviously remembered but were in denial that it needed to be done.

"Can't I just wait in here? He'll reset on his own, won't he?"

"To give you a real answer on that, yes, yes he will. But that takes hours and he'll eventually relocate and keep relocating until he finds you, or shuts down. His programming  **makes** him look for you. In his mind there's a criminal loose in the building and he won't stop until he finds them. Or until his power runs out. Err...That's what happens when they switch to this mode. The artificial intelligence takes a lot more power than the standard, harmless, animatronic mode." His voice was grim.

"You make it sound like he'll shut off pretty fast." You stated, convinced if something were running over triple its limited power it wouldn't have long.

"Don't underestimate how much power those things hold. And **again** , they have hours before they're done."

You scraped at the bottom of the barrel for any more options that involved not facing the robotic raccoon.

"And I can't just leave the place... Even if I had the key?" You pulled out one last possible option, though it was more wishful thinking. Your eye suddenly caught the small movement of Ray turning his head toward the office's direction.

_Was he listening??_

"Of course. If you can manage to properly unlock the main door without attracting attention. That bitch takes a minute. These places are secure for a reason."

Peter passed his judgement.

"And don't even try the fire doors; that's just asking for death there. The alarm will sound and that thing will run for you. Understand the building isn't some magical barrier. Ray has no problem leaving and running you down. And he  **will** run you down. And then the public can thank you for unleashing that thing onto the streets."

This was enough to shatter all hopes on leaving the building entirely, and the idea of waiting it out shriveled when Ray walked out of the hut area and descended down the hallway.

 _No! PLEASE!! Don't come in here, PLEASE!_ You begged almost out loud. Thankfully, the raccoon turned in an opposite direction and walked into the arcade room, cooling your panic.

"DO IT, Puppet!" His rough command cracked like a whip.

"Listen, I'm hanging up and I'll be hauling ass over there...and I better see that thing off." He gave the order with a twinge of threat.

"And Doug? What do I do about him?" You asked, staring at the side of the screen where the young man laid sprawled, and very still. Although he wasn't a favorite when it came to people of interest, he still wasn't a dark freak like his family. A drop of sympathy squeezed out of your conscience.

"Leave him." Peter said.

_Huh?_

"Leave him there. Do what I said!" He repeated the command one last time before the line died. Now there were no more choices left or time to bide.

You set the phone down without properly putting it back, eyes refusing to leave the screen. A menacing noise then erupted in the arcade room.

It sounded like human vocals mixed with artificial, roaring loud enough to upset your very atoms. 

You knew the broken imagination wasn't responsible for this demonic bellow; even the computer screen sizzled into static for a couple seconds from the sound. Somehow you didn't even wince but you had fallen backwards in absolute terror. How in the hell could a machine produce _that_ kind of sound? Ray of course had a built-in voice box to entertain the kids, but was it truly wired to also create such a scream from the very same voice?!

There was a beat of silence and the bellow happened again, though not as bad as the first.

 _No fucking way in hell!_ Your body refused to face the thing, trembling uncontrollably. There were distant sounds of heavy footsteps and you scrambled back to the desk to look at the footage again. To impermanent relief, Ray had moved further through the arcade room and into the dining area, where he now stood near several party tables. Doug still had yet to move.

 _" **Heezded!Heezdedandyernext!** " _The cracked voice came back in a shrill.

"Fuck..." You whispered, slinking back to the floor before seeing a blur on the screen and realizing Ray was moving again. He was slow, but moving nonetheless. Each stomp followed with an echo.

 _"I better see that thing off."_  Peter's instruction jumped out again.

Finally, the acceptance came. You had to face a monster. Running on a rare chemical, you ceased shaking and stood up, gripping the flashlight again and finding the footing to walk half-way out the office.

_Dining area. He's in the dining area._

You passed several posters of characters hung on the wall, one of them being Ray the raccoon. Much like Fazbear's, the arcade lights helped guide you. The miniature, blinking bulbs were slowing down in speed while you left them behind for the dining room.

As expected, the raccoon's moving mechanics were heard nearby. By the time he was visible, you were too close to the party tables to turn back and run. Ray turned toward you when his sensory picked up. It wasn't a stereotypical slow turn; It was incredibly fast.

The animatronic's head jerked in your direction in milliseconds, fast enough to where you thought it'd pop off. Your armor of bravery split by just seeing his bright eyes. You were now able to get a good look at the liquid trophies dripping from his teeth, indicating his bite went deeper into Doug's skull than originally thought. The raccoon's jaw twitched, resembling a real animal with rabies—this thing had rabies.

_Rabid animatronic!_

The raccoon's eyes flashed a red. He was scanning you. Scanning you for the criminal record that didn't exist. It was only a time waste on the animatronic's part due to the malfunction seeing _everyone_  who wasn't a little kid as a threat.

You used this given time and turned the flash light on, aiming it at the robot's eyes. It froze, then slammed its jaws shut. Then back open and shut again, gnashing his teeth. His decision on you being a threat stood tall.

"Why the fuck isn't this working..." Your breath thickened with terror. Apparently the tool's light wasn't bright enough. It was dim, obviously meaning the batteries were low.

_No..._

All courage flopped and you broke out into a cold sweat, thinking you were officially fucked.

_You're about to be—_

Perhaps something supernatural intervened at this second and forced you to look at the nearest party table. If the world was one big cartoon, there would be a divine light surrounding the lone camera forgotten by a guest. It was drastic, but it just might work. It was better to go out trying.

You lunged forward and grabbed the bulky photo box, dropping the worthless flash light in the process. You heard a demonic growl from the raccoon as it was ready to eliminate, possibly in the same fashion it dealt with Doug.

 _Please..._ You begged the film wouldn't be used up while sliding a finger on the camera's button. You quickly pressed down by the time Ray had taken two large steps, closing the gap between the both you by half when a righteously bright flash left the camera. It blinded even  _you_ for several seconds, but the raccoon's steps were definitely silenced and he was now quiet. Taking no chances, you rewound the film and kept shooting overwhelmingly luminescent flashes.

_Four, five, six..._

You may have been greatly over doing it, but who cared?

You forced the camera to blast several more flashes before noticing the noise Ray was emitting. It was similar to the dying tune a vacuum made when unplugged or switched off; that perishing hum, and then nothing.

You slowly lowered the camera and waited for the wall of negative light violating your corneas to fade. Everything was too dark to make out, but that was good. It meant the light in the animatronic's eyes were off, confirming its reset.

 _But for how long will it stay off?_  

Common sense said Ray would eventually turn back on and be his normal self, but another belief screamed you couldn't just claim victory and relax. Not to mention Doug was in another room bleeding to death, _if...if not dead already_. You weren't entirely sure since everything in the room was blanketed in darkness.

You froze and listened for any signs of life from the young man. Only thing heard was natural ringing in your ears. 

This was when the smell of Doug's fluids finally hit your nostrils. After coming into contact with gore so many times, one would think you'd be used it. But, unfortunately, blood was just something your system refused to familiarize itself with.

With how much power Ray burned, the endoskeleton's body had heated up to a fair temperature, awakening the oil smell stained inside, along with the elderly scents of old fragrances consisting of thick fabric and leather and ancient pizza—kids had a bad habit of aiming for Ray's mouth when throwing food particles. All these smells were brought back to life when the hot metal of the character's endoskeleton had basically recooked the rotten substances.

Beyond recooked— _burnt._ If it had been below thirty degrees in the building and there was light, the animatronic would've been steaming profusely. Even now there were spews of black smoke huffing out of the raccoon's crevices. You wouldn't be seeing it, but you'd be smelling it.

After the variation of hot musks combined into one monstrous miasma, your nose was again violated by something much worse than a coppery smell. Acrid and stinging your lungs, a coughing fit was triggered.

Your ears were able to finally pick up on another noise, though indistinctive. It was a tapping sound; very light and almost rhythmic. 

Doug's blood—and possibly small pieces of his brain—was still falling from Ray's jaws. The reminder of the mouth's cologne of "cooked" blood also being added to the concoction of tainted scents was all too gut-churning.

You tried not to in fear of being taken surprise by the robot. You gagged and held it in and repeated a couple more times before surrendering. You staggered backward, trying to recover from the nausea fast. All focus eventually returned but your muscles were back to trembling. You took several more steps back in hopes of banishing the unpleasant aromas from entering your system again. You were torn on leaving the dining area and staying here in case the raccoon came alive.

 _Certainly it wouldn't be that fast, especially with how hot it was._ Surely it needed to cool before the mechanics were able to start back up again... 

The idea was convincing but the simple fact that this animatronic, which once seemed harmless, had every potential to kill someone and already began was enough for you make sure it didn't get another chance. You backed further away and raised the camera and flashed another picture, getting three more this time, but this was so you could see the whole room for that one second. There was always the option of just turning on the dining room light. However, the switch was in the office, and if the lights were on the camera's flash may not be effective.

Your sympathy for Doug randomly returned. He was most likely gone and it was far passed the point of getting him medical help. **If** it was offered.

 _"Leave him."_ You remembered Peter's instructions.

_Leave him...leave him WHY??_

_Doug didn't deserve this..._ Your heart plummeted to your gut and before you knew it the silent grieving for the teen took place. He had demented bloodlines but they weren't active. He was a puppet to his family was all he was. He could've gone far. He could've ran the business well enough to discover that he deserved better than this. He had phenomenal potential.

Gone.

Now you were asking why it couldn't have been Victor laying by the raccoon hut with his brain exposed. Why couldn't it be that revolting sonofabitch who seemed to have darker secrets than Peter. 

Doug wasn't really considered a friend or pal, but knowing this was all he wanted, it made you have empathy as if he really  _was_ a friend. You were lost in this for so long to where you almost forgot to flash another picture of Ray's face.

 _How much film did this damn thing have?_  You wondered, but didn't complain. You were grateful if anything.

The noise of the winding film was overpowered by an even greater noise that made your insides jump in terror and then relax and then jump again. Peter had arrived and was unlocking the main entrance. He was the last person who could be seen as some knight in shining armor, but you just may make a small exception this one time.

One of the large doors was finally pulled open and a bright light invaded, making you turn your head in defense.

"Stop..." You griped. He was scanning everything with his own flashlight. He made a tuneless hum before speaking.

"Go wait outside." His voice was sullen. You dropped the camera that had saved your life from a literal killing machine and swiftly sprinted passed him, hitting the night's cool air.

A fresh breeze rustled the small trees planted around the restaurant. It was the most welcomed gust of wind one could ask for. It cooled your sweat-coated body through your clothes and permanently filtered away the noxious aromas that were still lingering in your sinuses. You breathed out what was left of the building's atmosphere and strongly took in the fresh outside air, letting out a soft moan from pure impulse.

Feeling cleansed of the building's toxicity, you refocused on the entrance doors, catching the flash of Peter's light bouncing off the glass every other second. The order of waiting outside for him reflected on how much trust he's built with you. He wouldn't dream of doing this in the beginning. If he needed you to wait outside he'd go as far as leashing and securing you to a damn tree if meant keeping a runaway from happening. 

Luckily for him, the idea of running off wasn't on your mind in the slightest. What  **was** on your mind was the actual fear of the raccoon waking up and attacking him. How crazy it was to have existing concern for the man... And to make it even crazier, concern for him trampled over the sympathy for Doug. It was as if you suddenly forgot about the poor bastard who had his skull bit open by a robot.

Your body tensed and you were practically chewing on your lip out of nervousness.

After about five minutes he came back out and locked the doors and headed for his car.

"Let's go." He ordered.

"Wait—what about Doug??" You asked, baffled that he seemed perfectly fine in leaving everything inside behind.

"I'll deal with it tomorrow. Probably grab Victor and clean things up. For now, I'm closing the place until all that shit gets done. I'll notify Rachel's employees in the morning so they aren't stuck wondering why the door's locked." He explained and started the engine. 


	61. What is the most dangerous man?

It had been cloudy all day and raining by the time you were hauled over to Candy's. When settled in the weather took its might to another level and light rain became a heavy storm. The good news was that the hefty rain and thunder kept random voices from invading your mind every other minute. For once it felt peaceful at Candy's.

Until it was reminded that Victor was inside with you.

"Meehh, don't you just haaate boring nights like these?" He asked in hopes of your attention. 

"What, bad storm not enough? What else could you want for entertainment, a power outage?" You said with depleting toleration. Through some bizarre occurrence there was a loud _click_ , echoing through the vast space of the restaurant. Whatever light there was became absent.

_Wait, WHAT?_

"Oh Godfuckingdammit... thanks a lot, _bruja_." He murmured and left the dining area to assist the backup generator. You scrunched your brows, as if silently asking him how it was your fault that the storm knocked out power.

 _Who gives a fuck? He's away from you for now. Enjoy it._  

The serenity did feel nice. For thirty seconds.

 _" **I'mscaredofthedark.** "_ An invader found its way passed the noise of relentless weather and interrupted the peace. Your vision fluttered over to the stage area. Stark details were cloaked by shadow, but with your eyes adjusted to the (slightly) darker conditions you were still able to make out Candy and Cindy, standing on the glossy stage and gleaming in silent tableau.

Nothing.

All was well with the animatronics and their environment. You mentally kicked yourself for not ignoring the imaginary creations your mind spawned.

_" **Heeezcomingback!** "_

"Alllriiight. It'll take a few minutes for the small lights to come back on but I got the security system going again. We're safe!" Victor's distant voice bounced through the dark room, raking your nerves like a rusty fork.

"Thank God. I was soooo super worried that something would happen." You said dryly.

"Heyyy, you never know who might sneak into this joint while it's unguarded. Actually...I tend to manually lock it anyways. So I guess no one could come in unless they keyed everything." He chortled.

"Oh believe me, if someone tried coming in I'd  **let** them and beg 'em to take your place." You said.

"Oh stahhhp being like that. You act like I'd do something to you."

With a brow raised, you tore your eyes to his direction.

_That was dick sarcasm, right? You were being sarcastic right there?_

You were astounded he'd say this. Was he seriously lacking recollection of what he did to you in the bathroom a while back, or did he honestly think it was funny to joke about pretending it never happened?

 _He was high at the time_. You remembered. He had even boasted that he was immune to your assault due to drugs. So did he really get amnesia from narcotics and have no idea he tried seducing and touched you? 

"Y'know, speaking of break-ins, I remember a couple years back when someone actually broke into this place one night." He started a story you had no earthly interest in hearing.

"It was during bad weather like this too. Except for it wasn't rain. It was snow. Lots of it."

Your sight shifted. _Now_ it piqued interest.

"Fucking hated it. Made some of the outside labor like trash and shit more difficult. It got to the point where I just decided to close early and stay closed for a few days. Ain't good for business but I figured I'd give myself a little vacation. Kept me from having to deal with a swarm of little brats celebrating the shutting down of school by crowding the joint. Gave me plenty of time for other fun activities..." 

Your chest rattled with your pulse slamming against it. Your memory cogs were sparking and digging into its footage of the past.

"Anyway, like this night the power decided to shit on itself and leave me in the dark. Didn't mind it too much, but I was busy cutting up...burger meat in the back when I heard a voice yelling out. And then another. Sounded like kids—teenagers. I mean really, who the hell wants to break into a kid's burger place on a freezing night? I won't go into further detail, but long story short the bitch sneaking in was spooked after seeing me. I...guess she was just startled from seeing someone else in the dark. They ran out, but it was still annoying."

It was so damn accurate; losing your friend over a psychological issue because something had scared her when the three of you snuck in this place two years ago. But it wasn't like she would get spooked over something so harmless, not enough to where it'd fuck up her mind. She couldn't have gotten terrified from an innocent scene like a man messing with junk food in the kitchen.

Victor's story was missing a few details.

"Are you sure it was just that? Are you sure you weren't doing something else?" You asked.

"Why do you ask?..." He questioned, smile marred by the insincerity of his shimmering, coal-dark eyes. 

"For starters why were you messing with so much food product when you didn't even want to be here in the first place?" 

Victor's silence was too long to be innocent. His eyes fell on you and then moved over onto nothing straight ahead before his lip curled.

"Alriiight...I got nothing to hide. It was meat alright. Just not Candy's burgers." He admitted a truth that put two years of wondering and guessing to rest. Your deepest instincts were correct the whole time;

Your friend had walked into a scene of horror. The specific details were unknown but it may have been easy to guess, considering practically the same thing happened to you ages ago. The only difference—when it came to outcome—was that you weren't permanently damaged like she was. There were serious sleeping problems that unapproved pills took care of, but your friend never got that kind of help. Her family had just taken off, so you didn't even know what condition she was in to this very day.

"You're lucky she didn't call police..." You said randomly. 

"Who would've believed her?" He said. 

"Technically I could've called them on _her_." He smirked.  

Your body trembled with fury as more hate for the man sprouted.

"Welp, I'll be right back...needs are calling." He said artlessly as he walked out the dining area.

 _Peter, at some point **one** of us here is going to be left alive when you return._ You thought.

 _At least_ she _was left alive!_ A positive fact sprung, putting a small icepack on your fire. This much was true. It could've ended so much worse for her; for all of you.

"I still think you should try something stronger. C'mon, just a little. It won't fuck you up." Victor's voice intruded and you peered over in his direction, spying a syringe and needle in his hand. He had of course already injected himself. And he was now trying to lace  _you_.

" **NO**! I don't want that, get the fuck away from me!" You yelled, hoping he'd heed your warning and screw off. His glazed eyes narrowed, narrowed and were vexed that you were refusing an offer from him yet again. You could sense your tone was having nil effect on him and he wasn't going to quit the pestering so easily.

So it was time to try something else.

"You realize you're just gonna piss off Peter whenever he comes back here soon? Then who's ass is on the line?" You name-dropped, having a good argument. For a moment you thought it worked as Victor lowered his hand holding the filled syringe.

 _You fear Peter, I know you do...even when you're high. Take the fucking hint and just leave me the hell alone!_  

Even in the dark the long sharp needle shined clearly, causing you to wish your captor yet protector— _master_ —would magically pull up to the building and barge in.

"Can't be anything worse than what he's given you. And besides, I can just tell him that it was  _you_  who tried it. Then who's ass is on the line, _HUH_?" He finally responded.

 _No use_.

He was going to make this happen with or without your consent. He started toward you, rotten, conniving smile playing.

"Don't fucking come near me!!" You desperately tried using volume as defense, but he only stretched his grin further.

You leapt up. You knew combatting with him would've been fruitless—he'd overpower you in a heartbeat. Your next option was to just run. Where _to_ was a different question, but you were thinking about the office since it locked and you didn't see his keyring on him.

Seeing through your plan, he bolted forward at an unexpected speed. You got as far as leaping away from your chair before he was already upon you, grabbing an arm. You managed to restrain his hand holding the sharp tool by the wrist. The struggle caused his smile to shatter, then instantly repair itself into a lesser, creepy smirk.

"C'mon, stop being such a prude." He said in a raspy breath, slowly overpowering and bringing the object closer to your face. You grunted, pushing passed your normal strength that still wasn't enough to dominate just one of his arms. Then your eyes shot a glance at the exposed area on his wrist.

With instincts kicking beyond survival mode, you opened your mouth and sank teeth into the flesh of Victor's hand, right below his thumb. Seconds later you heard his deep yell of pain, along with something small and plastic jingling on the floor.

He had dropped the syringe.

You whipped your head back and wiped the fresh red fluid from your lips, spitting out the rest that had slipped into your mouth. Victor dragged on his miserable groan from the lasting pain choking his thumb.

You could virtually _taste_ the adrenaline overflowing your system and every muscle felt like it was vibrating as your limbs shook out of ire and brace. Victor finally managed to straighten out his crippled posture, but only barely when he turned his sight back to you. He was breathing **hard** through flared nostrils like some pissed-off beast, yellowish tinted-teeth bared. His own body shook but in a much less natural and eccentric way compared to yours. A thick sheet of smoldering anger had been thrown over his crazed excite.

 _Whatsammater? Did you feel THAT?!_  

What was quite interesting is you expected a certain reaction to follow up; prepared for a response almost mundane. After being with Him for so long and learning his typical retorts, you were too ready for the angry, growling facial expressions of the man before you to mutate into a wild, crazed grin—the grin forever a reminder that no matter how frantic you got or what was done in protest, you were still below a significant weight of power, and it would only mock.

But such expressions never came.

Victor was temporarily unconscious by his fury, taking away the mental resources that allowed him to perform simple functions, causing both his eyes to involuntarily twitch several times without breaking his glare. He wasn't late on breaking his own spell while he slowly released the grip he had on his hand and guided the uninjured one near his waist.

"Alright...Fucking job be damned..." He finally spoke with a shot voice. It wasn't a very comprehensive sentence but it said so many grisly things at once, things he was dead serious about. It nailed such an extent of fear inside to where you started physically backing away, despite your body literally burning with a challenging hormone.

Dark blood from his severely bitten thumb slid down and dripped. A few drops met his other fingers and then a few more sprinkled the floor, like spilled ink. The both of you were almost in sync with deep respiration. His other hand entered his pocket and pulled out something wooden. With the flick of his thumb a glimmering blade shot out, the snicking chanting your possible fate.

"Tell me...Puppet, have you ever heard of the phrase 'the most dangerous man is the one who has nothing to lose'?" His voice eerily drifted in and out as he shifted his body. You gave no words in exchange. You wouldn't be showing any shred of fear that would only feed him power.

"'Cause you're about to learn what it means..." He hoarsely explained while rubbing his thumb on the blade's dull part.

"To hell with what Peter wants anymore...I don't give a fuck."

Victor was abandoning every rule he wouldn't dare breaking in the past.

With how fucked up his mind was—roiled with boiling anger—this could be counted as the last straw for him. He didn't throw out the strong analogy for no reason, for the only thing keeping him in line was Peter. With the nerve of stomping those fears dead emerging in his brain, he was off the leash and running loose. With how insane he was to begin with, he was officially one shade _deadlier_ than a normal man with nothing to lose.

He impressively twirled the pocket knife in his hands without even scaving himself, resembling a certain someone. More high-pitched, inaudible whispers filled your ears all in frantic tones, and for a split second you ripped your eyes from the threatening man to the cats on stage, who were still calmly standing in their spots as usual.

Except their eyes were set right on you.

"Looks like Fred is the last Fazbear." Was the last thing he muttered before bolting.

If there was one thing learned about him that stood out from his family, it was that he wasn't the most clever of people. Or intelligent. This didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, this just meant he had poor skills of thinking situations clearly through and not noticing little details.

You, however, had no problem with this.

You were near one of the party tables. One of its chairs hung out by the corner. With your reflexes greatly heightened by rushing adrenaline, you scooted it out with a quick foot and kicked it directly in the path of Victor's storm. Actually, you had kicked it  **at** him.

It was only meant to force him into moving it out of the way, thus slowing him down while you ran, but the odds turned out greatly in your favor. The chair had tumbled into his shins, legs tripping him up, and he fell hard over and onto the vibrant tiled floor, wringing out more furious animal yells on the way down. One of the metal legs had nearly impaled him right in the gut, forcing a gag to drool out.

"Damn straight, asshole." You couldn't miss out on adding insult to injury, the feeling was just too good to pass up.

 _Now what??_ You frantically wondered right after and the slight idea of turning the tables on the psychopath by taking his pocket knife blinked madly.

Unfortunately your luck wouldn't be hitting any bells of victory. Victor still had a good hold of the brisk weapon in his hand, even after the deriding fall and bad pain.

 _And forget trying to wrestle it from him._ Unless you wanted to know what it was like to be bleeding out of many wounds that felt on fire at the same time...

In no position to subdue such a deadly situation, the only option was to choose the not-so-favorite tactic you had grown used to, which was to flee like a mouse from a hawk. Not wasting another precious second, your legs exploded into a run across the dining area. Victor, heavily coughing but adamant on regaining his manhood at this point, grabbed the very chair that had ruined his murder attempt and hurled it in your direction with a menacing growl.

Regardless of his poor thinking, he still had impressive strength and aim that was nothing to underestimate. You felt what was best described as a sudden punch along with stinging pain crack the side of your back and lower shoulder. He gained minor satisfactory of hearing the quick blow, followed by your loud yelp, but it would never be enough to actually pacify the lust of seeing you slowly die under his grasp.

"Get back here you fuckin..." He tried his best to yell, but was still muffled by his bruised gut, it was nothing more than a weak whisper lost in a temporary wave of cringing. The blast from the chair, although painful, wasn't quite enough to refrain you from reaching the door sporting the vibrant words FIRE EXIT and busting through.

Your accolade was the heavy rain meeting you and showering your face within only seconds of being outside. Your heart skipped several beats in the astounding realization that the fire exit was actually unlocked!

_The stupid son of a bitch forgot to lock it!_

This one simple but monumental mistake had you laughing. Even with the quivering fact you were two steps away from almost being brutally stabbed to death, you were in genuine hysterics while leaving the door that saved your life behind.

Victor, who was quick in recovering, roared and dropped a numerous amount of rough F-bombs that were lost in the sounds of merciless weather. Despite now being cloaked in the windy rain, you were still a ball of thick, comedic chortles as you left the unfolded chaos behind without taking another glance.

As for Victor, well, the young man who was now in a tangle of deplorable messes didn't give chase this time.


	62. Foreign land

Laughter ran its course by the time your entire body was drenched in the thundering weather. Your mind was brought back to earth, forcing you to refocus on the seriousness of what happened and what was _to_ happen. Standing another second in Candy's parking lot was not an option.

Aware, you remembered there was a lunatic inside, high on meth and some other unknown mind-fucking drugs, and this person was wanting to kill you. Not instantly giving chase through the fire doors didn't officially declare he wouldn't be spurting after you at all, and you weren't going to sit here and gamble your chances when life was truly at stake. This wasn't some temporary smack-down you were humbly used to; Victor wasn't going to stop after he thought you had learned a lesson.

_This motherfucker was trying to MURDER you!_

Images of a high, glassy-eyed and very bloody-thirsty Victor busting through the fire door and wielding his weapon in any second sent another burst of energy through your legs, and you high-tailed it away from Candy's property.

The enveloping, thick rain made it almost impossible to see where you were going. You tripped over a few speed bumps and ran straight into a small wall of bushes planted on the outer parts of the property, though you were fast in pulling yourself (uncomfortably) through, receiving several sharp jabs in courtesy of various uneven branches sticking out. 

_It's better than being hit with a dirty needle._

The frenzy of high winds wrapped the entire town in a jacket of mist mixed with hammering rain, making you wish you had your puppet mask to help shield your face. However, that would've made sight worse given by how dark it already was.

It was a dull decision but you kept running in a straight direction, knowing it had to take you somewhere— _anywhere!_ Anywhere that would give guidance on where you exactly were and where to go from here. Your saving grace were the street lights combined with headlights coming from the occasional pass of a car, revealing you were almost in the streets. Roads and blinding rain weren't smart mixes, even if the street's occupancies were minimal.

Chest cramps took over. Your lungs hit their mark and you needed to stop. Meeting up with one of the street lights, you wheezed and hacked and spat maybe once or twice.

When breathing problems lessened, a panic zapped you; wondering if Victor had chosen to give chase. You looked over your shoulder but couldn't see anything. Literally nothing. To be more frank, it was a thick wall of rain and mist, but no mad man.

_If you can't see through this then neither could he. If he did try following you he's already lost you..._

You turned back, clothes already twenty pounds heavier with rain water. There was a sudden break in weather. The rain softened and after a few seconds of waiting for the thick wall of mist to disappear, twinkling lights of various businesses in town introduced themselves.

_That's it._

The recognition of many buildings aided your directions. You gulped in several more breaths to prepare your lungs for another work-out, and ran across the flooding street to the first building you've ever made contact with in ages that wasn't any of the murder-ring trio. Ironically it was another food place but had quite a bit more class than a children's restaurant.

 _You aren't supposed to be here_... No, you weren't supposed to be outside in town _._ This wasn't your area...it wasn't your... _habitat_!

And yet every chance was there; you could run to the nearest shop. You could flag down any of the slow cars carefully wading through the flood. You could try to find any person who just may be walking in the street and enduring the rain. You could've done so many things to save yourself once and for all, getting your old life back.

_But you didn't._

And you wouldn't.

Instead you left the fancy restaurant behind and sprinted through the abusive weather, avoiding all the above and resembling a scared, wild animal running through the streets and trying to find its way back to the wilderness. The epinephrine still going strong in your system helped you keep a fast speed while running several more blocks before a short breather was inevitable. At this time the rain lightened enough for you to see your surroundings clearer.

You managed to land in one of the public parks; largest one to be exact. A hinge of old memory came back, helping you piece together a map in your head.

 _Don't be any homeless bums here, please_...

You hoped the area wasn't already occupied by somebody else who would add to the list of worries. The park's bus stop was thankfully empty and you took shelter. It gave you time to wipe the rain water out of your stinging eyes and wring out soaked sleeves. With the atmosphere settling down you could finally take a good look at everything without blurriness. 

There weren't any reasons to look at details the bus stop sported, but you gave yourself something to do while catching your breath again. The walls had their typical graffiti and numerous phone numbers, but what caught full attention were the few posters pinned up on the largest wall. One of them at least.

It was a little hard to make out due to water damage, but you could guess what it all said and the picture gave it away completely. On it was a picture of you.

**Have you seen me?**

Under were more illegible words, smeared by rain. Old physical details and descriptions of you were different compared to what you were now...It was like staring at a completely different human.

You gazed at the missing teen in the poster, but felt no compassion.

"Haven't seen you." You said to its pleading question, whisper lost in the wind's aggression. You took your eyes off what was best seen as a ghost and focused back on becoming familiar with this area.

The park was held near the center of town and was practically a land mark. If one ever needed directions somewhere it wasn't unlike anyone to say, "It's on the west side of the big park. You can't miss it."

This being said, it was a great help in pointing out the direction back to your sanctuary. Planning out a new path involving dodging the eyes of people, a few coughs slipped from your over-worked lungs, and you prepared to start in the direction of the pizzeria.

_Run. Don't walk._

Before you could obey your own command, lights everyone dreaded appeared. Vibrant flashing of luminous blue, red, and white; a patrol officer had turned the block, due to pass the park within the next five seconds. 

The history of this place came into mind. This park was a favorite, but that included the negative side of town as well. Young junkies made this place their hangout, creating a popular investigation spot for police.

 _Young junkies..._ You got a quick memory of the teenagers who introduced your old friends to weed and other drugs at this very spot a couple years back. And...right across from this place was where Peter had spied on you that same day.

Putting the strands of recollection away, you bolted from the bus stop and headed for a thick bush—a spot used many times by furtive visitors. You just hoped to God there wouldn't be any abandoned, old needles. You squeezed into a desperate huddle and pinned your gaze on the bright flashing vehicle. The patrol car slowed down, scanning this infamous area for obvious reasons. The people who would've saved your life and brought you home were now just seen as enemies. You hated the sight or even the mere thought of them.

Your luck bar spiked as another bad wave of heavy rain vented itself onto the town once more, shielding you and everything in the park from the patrolling officers. They moved on, lights disappearing after making another turn, leaving you by yourself.

Standing back up, you carried on toward your chosen path, constantly shooting your vision here and there incase more law enforcement popped up. After what seemed like hours, the lights of Fazbear's were in your burning view. Worst part of this journey was perhaps the large hill that sat behind the restaurant, and it's what you had to hike up in order to avoid the risk of being seen by anyone else in a car.

By the time you made it your adrenaline and energy were almost gone.

 _Fucking spent_. 

Knowing the restaurant's backdoor was closed—and he'd never hear the knock, anyway—you dragged yourself to the front and leaned on its glass door, catching your breath for the final time as the wonderful feeling of being in the all clear washed over.

You made it this far and escaped Victor completely. Bitch couldn't find the nerve to seek in the rain while you practically swam in it. You finally cracked a smile and looked at the town a mile away. Everything was visible with the rain ceasing its aggression, lights fuzzy blobs in a bunch. 

The humor possessing you when escaping Candy's returned as you slowly raised a hand toward the direction of town and sprung out your middle finger. You coughed several laughs while flipping off Victor and everything else that had gotten in your way.

Your balanced was ripped away as the door swung open hard, causing you to fall into a bewildered (but furious) Peter.

"The fuck are you doing?! What the hell happened?!" He asked in hysterics while looking out to see if anyone else was around, most likely expecting Victor. His cousin's absence only added to his confusion. You had yet to answer him, storing it for when you were inside and feeling entirely safe.

"The hell off me!" He shoved you away, grumbling at the copious amount of water you tracked and splashed on his shirt. You moved passed him and trudged through the entrance, dripping heavily onto the carpets as you stopped near the dining area. The mess provoked his mood to decline further, but you gave no fucks. Not after what you just went through.

"You gonna tell me what the hell you're doing here?" He asked again.

"Well...for starters, your fucked up cousin tried killing me. That help?" You said in delayed breaths. His seething eyes loosened and his glare broke, giving attention to your drenched clothes instead.

For two tense minutes he was still and silent. You weren't entirely sure but you thought his shoulders were raising higher than normal as he breathed in and out.

"Why? What happened?" He asked, his voice lowered to the I'm-not-fucking-around tone.

"He tried feeding me the drugs and shit he always has on him. I refused and he got pissed. Just that pretty much. Oh, and he was high on some of it himself. I...defended myself and he whipped out a pocket blade. I'm sure you're pissed about me running through town, but that's better than finding me sliced don't ya think?" You explained while wringing out your sleeves, water splashing onto the carpet below in a thick fountain.

"Stop fucking doing that. Go put on dry clothes." He sounded pretty calm for what you had just told him. This had you mildly worried, but you obeyed his instructions.

Deciding against rinsing off before changing, you carried the scent of rain and wet leaves after replacing soaked apparel. There was something calming and pleasant about it. Something natural. 

Without a towel your hair was flat against your head and in your face from weight of water.

"Alright. C'mon." Peter said after you walked back out. You eyed the keys in his hand.

"Fuck, you aren't sending me BACK there, are you?!" You almost panicked, thinking he had the smarts to take you back to where Victor, who tried to kill you, was.

"No. Chill out, princess." He answered.

 _Well Rachel's wasn't on the list anymore._ So where else could he take you?

"With word from the guy at the station police are everywhere tonight." He said.

"Tell me about it." You said.

"So we'll stop by my place and then I'll check up on Victor..."

_PETER'S place!_

You rarely thought about his actual home. He never talked about it and spent most of his time here at the restaurant. A collage of ideas on what his place looked like on the inside and out filled your mind.

 _This outta be interesting_...

"I'm sure you're just dying to know what my house that you thought never existed looks like."

He was always able to guess your thoughts quite well.

"I'll have you know it'll turn out nothing like you probably imagined. Or...maybe it will." A shadow-grin touched his face and he lead you out the building.

"Unless it's purple too I don't think it will." You said, wearing your own sly grin.

"You're so funny." He replied with zero tone and pulled out a piece of wrapped gum from his pocket before opening his car.


	63. A Fazbear? (1)

Weather wasn't so bad now. A gentle rain was all that was left, glistening up the town. You still couldn't believe you ran outside in this during the worst parts. 

He blew a large bubble from the sugary gum, making a soft cracking noise when it swelled passed capacity. He must've enjoyed hearing his own pops considering he sucked the hanging gum back in his mouth and repeated the action three more times in a row.

You _hated_ hearing these kinds of obnoxious sounds and were sure anyone else could agree.

Besides being fumed earlier when dealing with you running back to Fazbear's, Peter seemed relaxed while driving, even wearing half a grin whenever he wasn't chewing on the damned gum.

 _Crack!_  

"Can you _stop_ doing that?" You had lost patience and painfully begged.

 _ **CRACK!**_  

You breathed a weak sigh and regretted ever asking. As if the most recent pop wasn't enough, he exaggerated the slurping noises when sucking back the pieces.

You caught him shooting a glance out the corner of his eye. Luckily he didn't see _your_ gaze thanks to the purple bangs that were still sticking together from rain water.

 _Yeah. I did hear that. Just in case you're wondering._ You were so close to saying this that your lips split, exposing front teeth. However, you went with better judgment.

 _If you sass him in the car he just might brake-check you._ Your conscience gave a good reason to keep your mouth closed for the time being.

Whether he was granting your wish or just growing bored, he soon ceased with loud chewing and you could hear more of what was going on inside the car. Faint music of his radio trailed into your ears.

Carmen-Habanera. He was listening to a piano cover of the song.

 _That's an interesting choice in music._ You never saw Him enjoying this particular genre.

"Jogger ten points!" He suddenly announced, rolling down his window and spitting the chewed gum at a spot unseen after he gunned it.

Whether he was bluffing or actually serious about finding an unsuspecting target for his gum bullet, he hurled up a single powerful laugh and focused back on the road.

"Are you fucking serious?" 

If he  _had_ been you couldn't believe he had the nerve to target someone in public.

Or maybe you could.

"Wuuuut?" He dragged. 

"Lost its flavor." He said, quivering with silent giggles.

"Shit isn't gonna be so funny if that person decides to catch up." You responded, propping an elbow on the door. 

"I'd _love_ for them to." He said darkly, revealing his mood to be sullen. 

You lifted your head and glanced over at him. There was a smile, but it was larger than the previous and looked eager as hell—the "dangerous" smile, accompanied by a familiar zeal in his eyes.

He wanted a confrontation, alright; he was looking for an excuse. Just something to unleash the latent violence from his system. And that's when you finally noticed; he wasn't relaxed at all. He just knew how to hide it well.

He truly was beyond upset with how Victor handled things tonight and planned on dealing with him as soon as possible. He almost couldn't wait. But he also didn't mind using the concocting fury on anyone who got in his face. He was practically  _hoping_ it would happen.

"You're driving a little fast." You told him with your voice lifeless of any offense he may take. The blur of town lights were mixing together more as he raised his car's speed. There was no guessing on it, he was speeding.

"It'll be okay pumkin." He replied in a mocking sweet voice. You adjusted your sitting position, growing ever more uncomfortable with his driving. With each passing second your pulse rose and your breath thickened.

 _Peter, for fuck's sake, be CAREFUL!!!_ You yelled inwardly.

The town lights disappeared in an instant and he was now driving down a more open road. You recognized the area but hadn't seen it too often when growing up. It lead to a neighborhood. A rather high-end one at that.

"Wait, you live up HERE?" 

"Yup." 

_The fuck?!_

He was wealthy?

It took the rest of the drive to let it all sink in. He finally came to a stop at the last house after turning into a far street.

"Don't stand outside and stare at everything like you've never seen a house before. Go straight to the door." He instructed.

"You're pretty lead-foot." You waited until the car completely stopped to remark.

"And you're pretty annoying." He threw back.

His inhabitancy was not like anything expected. Not that a shabby place was imagined but you certainly didn't see him living in the nicest side of town. This had to mean his income from Fazbear's was more than what anyone could imagine. This in turn opened up revelation on just how well the entire Fazbear entertainment was doing.

Technically the ownership of two restaurants who were once rivals should tell  **anyone** that Fazbear's is running quite the business. Obviously regular employees weren't getting a profit comfortable enough for them to kick their feet back and settle on what they were making now for the rest of their lives, not even petty management.

But the directors and owners... _There was a huge pay difference for sure,_ but what could anyone do about it?

The real nepotism was Peter and his family. Forgetting about his true, monstrous self for a brief moment (as Fred most likely wasn't aware of it), Victor, for starters, was a horrible drug addict who shot up and smoked while on the job.

And this was no secret kept hidden—he had no shame in leaving small bags containing the harmful stimulants laying around Candy's office or even the kitchen. So at least the majority of staff had to know about this. His only redeeming feature was that he did a decent job in running the burger place, but this was  _if_ he had all his fixes. As for Doug... may the poor boy rest in peace...He was too young to be the director of a restaurant. Granted one could argue he was the same age as Peter was when he first started running Fazbear's. However, the two were very different from each other. Peter did a fine job at a young age, no doubt, but he also had a nerve and attitude that Doug could only dream of.

Doug was too frail and constantly got Victor and sometimes Peter involved when having difficulties, which was at least once a week. He had no business being in the position he was, but he was there because his family allowed it. The two main owners who got most the profit were Fred and Peter's uncle, who was Victor and Doug's father.

It was amazing how far two people can go in business... _Let's not forget they had connections with the police_. Though it wasn't a lot, but it was enough for Peter to be given heads up on what authorities were doing.

Even though you were in a fresh set of dark clothes, parts of your body were still damp and cold. Mainly your hair. Droplets of water gathered to the tips of your long bangs and fell to the floor. You squeezed a portion of locks, milking any remaining excess. You then shook your hands free from the last bit of droplets, not being careful with what you sprayed.

Peter didn't have a lot of valuables, anyway. Well, technically he did, just not pictures, portraits, or anything that would be considered sentimental. He had necessities. Nice-looking ones, but still necessities. He had nice furniture, several T.V.'s, a glass coffee table in the middle of his living room with a couple of bookshelves... and that was about it.

"I'll be back later." He wasn't slow in leaving you by yourself. You guessed he was on his way to confront Victor and...who knows.

_Would Victor still be alive after tonight?_

This question was more intense than intended, but with Peter's bottled fury and Victor's major screw up, there was no proper guessing on what may happen. Peter may rough him up, or he might turn Victor's own blade against him.

 _But what if Victor happens to be the one that kills?_ Another thought lingered.

 _Impossible!_ Peter was stronger, no matter how many drugs Victor put in his body. Not to mention Peter's reflexes were beyond impressive unlike Victor's, who got caught up in a chair kicked at him.

This recent memory conjured a smirk and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him and locked it.

_Now what?_

Well you wouldn't just be standing here. You moved forward, beginning the exploration of Peter's house that seemed almost mythical. The side of your back was incredibly sore from Victor's strike, but after building such a high pain tolerance—thanks to Peter—it didn't affect your movement.

 _Did the bastard even sleep?_  You wondered, thinking about how late Peter would stay at the restaurant and how early he'd wake you up.

 _Did...he even have a bed?_ A rather silly wonder came up, but it was motivating enough for you to start scrutinizing the rooms of this place. Some of the lights were already on, giving decent guidance.

With the walls being completely bare of any decorations, the place seemed too empty. This house was too big for him, especially if he wasn't going use most of the space provided. The first room was entirely vacant.

"The hell?" You said out loud.

 _Definitely didn't need all this space._ You repeated again while closing the door and lurked for a different room. Next one held the bed you were searching for, pacifying your wonders.

So he  _did_ sleep. It was large and literally the only thing in this room next to a shelf.

The next corridor was dark, coercing you to search for a light switch before descending. Though not because sight was a problem, but because there was a small tingle of uneasiness sprouting. The childish fears were mildly frustrating but the entire place was just buzzing with eerie vibes, though there wasn't anything you saw as concerning.

 _Was it because it was so bare?_ Possibly. Or perhaps because it was owned by a serial killer...

A second detail you noticed was how spotless everything was. Even corners of the walls were absent of any dust or tiny webs. But how did he have the time to scrub this place if most of it went to Fazbear's?

_Maybe he got Doug to do it._

The kid was twice the cleaning machine Peter was.

_" **That won't be happening anymore!** "_

"Shut up." You said to the nothingness and came up on another room.

You opened the next and perhaps final door and faced what seemed to be a small study area. It had a large desk with several file cabinets to the side. There was a lamp on the desk that was already on and allowed you to see the papers scattered all over it. Most had to do with Fazbear's.

With interest rising, you invited yourself in and learned they were information on employees. Boredom mixed with curiousness and you eventually started flipping through and saw that all of them were actually termination paperwork. Some dated all the way back a few years ago.

Most recent one was Beth's. A smirk came and went. Your venturing took a step to the next level and you didn't want to waste time sneering at the young woman's misfortune. You boldly opened up a few cabinets and found things on Fazbear; the actual Person, not the restaurant.

He wasn't really one who piqued interest and you were about to close the drawers back up. That is until you saw several newspaper articles glued to a blank sheet of paper sticking out of an old worn file, just like the one you came across holding Peter's track record of you over the past several years. It was pulled out and expected, revealing the first newspaper strip.

 **Co-Founder of Fazbear entertainment and** **Brother Of Fred Fazbear Dies In Hospital A Few Days After Heart Complications.**


	64. A Fazbear? (2)

You scanned the paragraphs below, though they only consisted of extra details on health of the man and how he always seemed to have a heart condition.

But there were  _two_ original owners of the restaurants?

_Peter never mentioned this!_

You moved onto the next clipping.

**Wife Of Deceased Fazbear Entertainment Co-Owner Perishes From Childbirth.**

You read how speculators assumed the woman was in too much grief over her husband's death and the stressful birth took its toll.

Although this was a little on the pitiful side, you couldn't understand how this was so important to where Peter had to save the clippings. You skimmed a part of the last paragraph and all attention was hooked. The child's birth date was—

Yours.

 _That's...interesting?_ You thought, but saw it as a mere coincidence since hundreds of kids were born every day. You moved onto the third and final clipping.

**Newborn Of Deceased Fazbear Entertainment Owner Goes Through Private Adoption.  
Fred Fazbear refuses to take in newborn nephew. "With running a demanding restaurant it wouldn't be possible." **

Interest was held for a bit longer before you decided to just put the rough thing back where it came from. Upon folding it shut the grazing wind knocked out a small piece of paper from within one of the folder's pouches. When retrieving it you saw it was a cutout photo of Fred himself with another man at his side, both smiling at the photographer.

 _This must've been his brother_. You guessed when noticing the slight resemblance.

 _Speaking of resemblances_... his features looked oddly familiar. Your breath turned to glass in your throat and your color drained when noticing his **[Hair Color]** hair and **[Eye Color]** eyes. The facial features as well...

 _"Part of the Fazbear family again. It's where you belong!"_ Peter's uncalled for words bounced in your head. 

" **No**...no..." You whispered and released the folder carelessly. It felt like a hundred pound-weight dropped on your head and it pushed you further to the ground. Your heart palpitated furiously and you lost balance, grabbing a hold of the desk chair for support.

"This isn't fucking real..." You said.

_You weren't this kid...this wasn't YOU! It was somebody else. It HAD to be...YOU WEREN'T ADOPTED! YOU WEREN'T RELATED TO FAZBEAR!!_

But all evidence was there and staring you in the face.

 _This was how you were to find out?!_ Through Peter's fucked-up collection...

You were a Fazbear. You were the nephew of Fazbear Entertainment's owner and child of a dead man.

Nothing in the room was put away or organized as you staggered out. All pieces of the mystery about Peter's obsession were falling into place. You were a Fazbear, the **only** Fazbear child, and Peter wanted you to come _back_ to Fazbear—Fazbear entertainment, at least. It was close enough.

It made sense as to why he constantly tracked throughout, why he gave you the slip numerous times when running into him as a child because you weren't mature. And most importantly, why he kept telling you he was "bringing you back to the Fazbear family".

 _But why the fuck did he even_ care _about getting you back?_ A question that would probably never have a sane answer.

 _Because the man is crazy._ This was the best explanation there could ever be.

* * *

 

You were in the middle of the living room on your knees, gazing at the carpet with rare blinks by the time he returned. Sure, you looked weird and probably stupid in this pose, but the new discovery still had its effect on you like some paralyzing spell. 

"What's YOUR problem now?" He asked. His shirt was a little askew, spelling a most definite confrontation, but there weren't any tears or wounds to him.

You did not reply. You acknowledged but had nothing to say. Not surprisingly, he couldn't give a damn. He simply passed and followed down the same hallway holding the study room you invaded not too long ago.

 _Go ahead. Be upset_. You mentally said, expecting him to rage over the fallen papers and spilled truths of a long buried secret. Peter saw the ransack damage, but he did not become discomposed. He was—

_laughing!_

He reappeared seconds later and carried on the hilarity while staring at your pathetic position.

"So now you finally get it. Well...I planned on telling you very soon actually...but this works out too. Hey son, mommy and I didn't conceive you. We PURCHASED you!"

The end of his horrible mockery was lost in another sea of chortles. He sounded so damn _amused_. It was all a big barrel of jokes at your expense.

A fire sparked in your gut and rose up until it clashed with your head, igniting old ire that was once a damp powder keg.

" _YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!_ " You tore your head to the side and roared. Had there been any portraits on the bare walls, they just might've rattled.

"Yes." His temerity threw out the one-word response without a speck of remorse.

"You're a fucking fiend!"

"Stop being dramatic." He said, nearing.

Damning the consequences, you leapt up and turned around to throw a fist at the man, who swiftly caught it without much surprise. He then grabbed your other hand with his own.

"Puppet..." He started, staring deep into your angry soul.

 _Don't call me that_...You almost felt like saying, but the tainted loyalty remained strong and the impulse died not even halfway through. Even with all the fury.

"Wanna know what I just got back from? You don't. Understand me clearly when I say that starting this is not a good idea. 'Specially not now. I'm still a little high on adrenaline myself." He said to you with a partial smile that dropped to a frown as soon as he finished talking. He squeezed your hands with an uncomfortable grip, killing your flaming violence instantly, as if he put out a burning wick. Submission took over when noticing the tiny specks of red on his shirt near the wrist area.

"But I can always take it out on other things..." He started again, regaining his grin.

"Like what." You said.

"Let me show you the bedroom." He said, softening his grip.

"Already been there." You replied with low-key rejection.

"Then you should already know where it is." He responded and retightened his grasp.


	65. The purple man DOES sleep

*

"Why do you want all of this, Pete?" Fred asked when handing over his old photos of him and his brother.

"Why are you getting rid of it?" Peter countered.

 _Touche,_  Fred probably thought.

"Just wanting to let go. I feel bad for making my decision all those years ago, but...I know I did what's best for the company. If the Entertainment is going to survive it needs me to have all my time and dedication put into it. Family is family, but business is business. I'm sure everything worked out anyway." Fred explained himself and pulled out more papers he had stashed away in his office.

"It's always best to keep hold of some of these things. They're good track records and you never know if someone's gonna come at you in several years, wanting something." Peter gave his excuse in taking the papers Fred insisted on trashing.

"Eh...good point. In that case thanks for having my back. But ...I still don't want anything that's gonna remind me of the past. Christ, it's been this long but it's still haunting me. I don't know...maybe in the future soon I can take all this back. But right now...it's just a distraction."

"I understand." Peter said.

"How many years has it been?" Fred suddenly asked.

"Sir?" 

"Since...that day?" Fred cleared.

"Oh. About thirteen years. I obviously wasn't around for it but I remember you telling me a while back." Peter answered.

"The most infamous number...and here I am trying to get rid of it all." Fred said.

"I doubt superstition has anything to do with it, sir. Aaaand...it may actually be _fourteen_  years now that I do the math."

"Hey no matter what the year is some people are just walking omens, and I feel a bit...responsible for it." The older man's face took on an edgy quality. 

"I have to disagree, sir. If you want to get technical the ones responsible are no longer with us. Pardon me for saying that, but I'm just making sure you don't blame yourself." Peter said, putting the articles and newspaper stacks in an envelope.

"Hey...did I ever tell you the reason as to why I gave that one family a lifetime voucher good for any of the restaurants years ago?" Fred randomly asked.

"Yes, and my personal opinion on it...well I don't have one." Peter answered.

"It was your call, and I don't see any issue with it today. I guess it makes up for...y'know...not being there. But don't get me wrong, you don't owe anyone anything. Just remember that." He added while organizing his new possessions.

"Yeah...I guess you're right. Anywho... What have you gotten yourself into these days?" Fred decided it was time to change the subject for his own comfort.

"Just taking care of the company and restaurants. Things have been slightly more demanding after you and your bud bought out the other pizzeria. I'll tell ya I'd rather baby-sit actual children than the mountain of staff. Trust is almost non-existent. You can never tell what one is hiding..." Peter's words trailed off as he eyed his envelope. He misjudged its capacity and a few papers fell out.

They landed face-up onto the floor. For an instant flash he felt a single cut of hot panic slice across his face before it died away just as fast. He exhaled through his nostrils and was serene again.

"What's that you got there?" Fred asked when seeing a glimpse of the unfamiliar sheets.

"It's got words circled and stuff. Makes no sense." He added.

"Something that belongs to one of my cousins. I don't know what it means either. They left it in my office yesterday and I've been needing to return it back. That just reminded me, so...perfect timing." Peter explained the strange sheets as he casually retrieved them. 

"Oh... those boneheads. Vic's doing a decent job. Won't be much longer till his younger brother climbs on board. He already visits the attraction at least once a day and is good with the mechanics. Good kid...Haven't spoken to their father in about a week, but he has his own business to take care of. I'll tell ya, I miss the old days where it was just the two of us. No offense, Pete. You're the best employee and director I've ever known. I just wish my partner didn't invest himself into new things, but...what can ya do." Fred vented and Peter only stood there, staring at his envelope and nodding his head to the boss's words.

"Well if makes you feel any different, business is doing better than it ever has. Merging companies again was the best move you could've done. Profits are through the roof. I know it's all just a kids environment, but we give the fancy adult dine-ins on the classier side of town a huge run for their money. It's rather hilarious. _I_ think so at least." 

"Speaking of dine-ins I never see you or Vic hanging around a special person. Dates and such, y'know." Fred threw out.

"We could say the same thing about _you_ sir."

"Alright...fair enough." The older man said, leaving the conversation as is.

"You sure there ain't someone on the mind?" He asked one last time. Perhaps he was genuinely curious, or maybe he just liked messing with Peter.

"Do I have SOMEONE on the mind? Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Peter answered.

"That's up for fate to decide. Along with careful planning." He whispered too quietly. 

"Well whatever you do with whoever, be careful about it." Fred told him and turned on a small radio he kept in his office.

"Oh...here's something unrelated. They're calling for a heavy winter this year. So be sure to bundle up in a few months." The man repeated what he had just heard on the device.

"Oh goodie..." Peter unenthusiastically responded while leaving his boss's office. Last thing he wanted was snow and ice slowing his "progress" on planning down.

* * *

 

Some time during the deep hours of that night, he was up and reconstructing all the papers he was given.

He had cut out the articles with a pocket knife and then carefully glued them to a blank sheet. As for the pictures of Fred and his brother...he wasn't quite sure what to do about _those_ just yet...but he wasn't feeling a huge need to change anything. They were fine as is, and he only stuffed them back into the pockets of the folder and left his new sheet of articles out on the desk to dry over night.

When everything seemed in place he stood up from his study desk and did something that rarely happened with his system.

He yawned. Hard.

Eyes watering in reaction, he wiped his face and looked at one last sheet displaying important things. It was one of the few Fred caught a glimpse of when he accidentally dropped them. Just like the older man said, there were words all over the front with circles on many of them. And they weren't random; they were names. Names of business and places in town to be exact.

"There's the hardest part in my collection..." He mumbled as drowsiness gripped his body and muscles.

"But worth it." He said one last thing before taking a pen and circling yet another word on the ink-abused paper.

Center Park. This was the nick-name meant for the town's largest park in its center. It was where many older kids liked to hang around after school hours...or before, depending on how rebellious they were.

_Tracking was hard!_

Actually...no, no it wasn't. It was quite easy in fact. It was finding a good timing to "finish" his goal that was the hard part. He had missed another chance earlier this day and his patience was being tested like no other.

 _He may just have to wait and let the target come to **him**._ This idea was much easier and it was bound to happen sooner or later. The only downside was that it took a lot longer than tracking them, this special "someone", himself.

 _But it would be happening._ He reassured himself when he eyed the date on his calendar.

_It happened every year._

There was a distinct date that guaranteed him a chance to be around his target.

Finally he exited the small study and strolled to his bedroom. Upon making it, he unbuttoned his casual work shirt and revealed the impressive, built body underneath to the nothingness of his room holding only a shelf and a large bed.

He treated fatigue with extra care as it wasn't one to show up every day. He obeyed the resting needs of his body without fight and made contact with the soft bed, closing his eyes. The last thing he thought about before falling into a deep sleep was the person he so desperately wanted— _HAD TO—_ take from the park that morning.

_But he needed to plan a much more careful approach._

Unbeknownst to him, he would be getting another chance fairly soon.


	66. The last party (1)

"Know what I haven't done in a while?" He questioned randomly after the both of you returned to the dining area. After this night's closing he thought it was an appropriate time to re-dye your hair that was growing fast, bringing in more of the natural **[Hair Color]** color.

"C'mon, answer me."

Normally you just ignored him and let the ramble go on.

"Sleep at your own place?" You answered with dry sarcasm.

"Ha. You're a real kick." He took your attitude surprisingly well.

"And by the way, I DO sleep there. Plenty."

"No way...you?? _Sleep_??" You continued.

"Well...not every night. I tend to skip a couple. Or few. Longest I usually go is about three or four days. Sometimes fatigue just doesn't hit me right." Peter said, giving real information on his true sleeping habits.

 _So he_ did _sleep. Just not normally. Well that much wasn't shocking._

"But seriously. Can you guess?" He refocused.

"I...I don't know." You said. You had no interest in finding a genuine idea. There was an underlying resentment; you didn't like where the last guessing game took you. 

"A lil party." He revealed and smiled.

"You've _never_ done that."

"Oh yes I have. Don't you remember? You ought to. You walked _in_ on one after all." 

You were at first at a loss until digging around in your head, finding the old, dusty memory labeled Massacre; Peter's Party Room Slayings. 

_THAT was a "party"?!_

"Oh God..." It slipped out of you. Blood and gore no longer induced paralyzing fear, but that didn't mean you were okay with seeing it like it was a mundane routine. 

"After all this time and you still react so fragile with that?" His voice trailed to a tune of displeasure after hearing those two words.

"I like to pretend you don't do that. So yeah. Slicing a child's insides isn't really my favorite pastime." You said. 

"I bet if you came from Fred and not his brother you'd think the opposite." 

"What does my birth family have to do with not loving murder?" You grew defensive.

"Sometimes it takes the right person to pass on good traits is all I'm saying." He responded. You said nothing back in return. Perhaps it was better to just tune him out instead of engaging in a possible argument that would lead to him winning like it always did.

"Hey it's better than coming from the family that raised you. Can't imagine what  **that** would've done to your traits. Just look at the one you called 'sister'."

 _Now_ it was too much to tune out.

" **Don't**." You sharply turned, glaring at him.

"Don't talk about them. Or her. Especially her." Your pulse rose as did the temperature in your blood. Peter lowered his hand as dark humor touched his face. 

"Did I find a weak spot?"

_He was fucking taunting..._

"I'm not screwing around. Don't bring them up. Ever." You repeated.

"Yeah? What's gonna stop me if I do, PUHPETT? Are  _you_ gonna stop me? What is going to stop me from talking about how pathetic that family was? Especially that brain-deficient little **girl**?" He challenged, looking straight into your angry eyes without an ounce of threat. To thicken the tension he approached, staring you down in torment.

There was an atrocious urge to strike him. And Holy Fuck...

you actually did.

Too fast to comprehend it was actually happening, your fist swung and struck the corner of his mouth clean.

For less than a second you felt the wonderful sensation of getting back at him for once, a single hit, a well-deserved punch. For just less than a second. After this your eyes stretched from glaring to widening in terror at your own action. Peter's recoil was light, making it plain obvious he wasn't too physically affected.

What was unexpecting was the fact he had  _taken_ the hit. For this whole time you've known him for having abnormally heightened reflexes compared to the average. At the very _least_ he would've sensed the punch coming before it even ever happened, and dodge it swiftly like he had always done in the past. But here he was taking a full strike from you. 

 _Maybe he was taken off guard for the first time?_ Whatever caused this terrible delay, you were in a world of cringe and fear at what was to happen next.

_Don't bother with an apology; you'll just be wasting the air he'll knock out of you._

His head slowly turned back. He moved it sideways and cracked several joints loudly, causing a shiver to fall down your spine.

He was still smiling. But the deep intimidation did not change. After all, a smile from him could spell worse trouble than a frown. He let out a long, tuneless hum followed by a deep chuckle and straightened his dark, gleaming eyes on yours.

"That's alright." He spoke with an abundance of rasp.

"I'll let you have that one for free. After everything you've been through I'll say you've earned that shot." He said, bringing a hand up to his mouth. There was a small trickle of blood on the corner of his lip. He brushed it off with the tip of his middle finger and inspected it.

"Not bad. Not great but not terrible either. Could use some work." He said and sniggered.

"So you're still defensive over that family. That's cute." He kept adding.

"Though I'll say..." He began while rubbing his fingers together, smearing the dot of red.

"You could hit me a million times and I wouldn't care. I wouldn't be angry..." He suddenly bolted forward and grabbed a fistful of the front of your shirt, pulling you to him.

"Not compared to what I'm feeling now; what I'm sensing in you..."

You assumed he was about to go back on his word on letting you hit him without discipline.

"I'm very certain we've had this little discussion before. This... **test** ; Your loyalty. Something deep within me, though I hope is all just paranoia and nothing more, tells me you're slipping. So let's alleviate that little problem... Tell me if I need to be truly concerned with this or if it's just a misunderstood case of paranoia. Go on and tell me, Puppet." He spoke lowly, his hot breath conjuring tiny amounts of moisture on the side of your cheek. His other hand flexed and curled into a fist several times. 

You spent a couple seconds determining what he meant by all this and what exactly triggered it. His eruption of anger...

_What did your "loyalty" have to do with all this?_

"I AM. You're just being nuts." You answered with your head to the side as to avoid his steaming mouth.

"You are _what_?"

"LOYAL!" 

"But how am I to be sure about this? Tell me that. And give me a convincing answer." 

 _Or else what? Are you going to choke me like you did last time?_ A thought in you raged but stayed mute.

"If I wasn't would I have come this far with you? Have I made any attempts to bust out of here and run off? If anything I've  _protected_ the both of us. I hid when the fuzz came in that day, didn't I? Even though I would've had every chance to use them as my escape." You said.

"And if THAT isn't enough, what about the most recent incident where I left Candy's and came all the way back HERE when Victor tried slicing me to bits? Howboutthat?" You went on.

His hand loosened its grip, and you pulled away but weren't successful in freeing yourself just yet.

"Good. Now forget about that family you lived with, Puppet. They. Mean. **Nothing**!" He stormed in your face.

"Now say it back."

"They mean nothing." You repeated obediently.

" _Who_ means nothing?"

"That **family** means nothing." You finished correctly this time.

"There we go. Now you best get over it, Puppet." He said.

"I have a name." Whether it be dormant, past due, or lost all forbearance from finally taking action, the revolt pushed through without entire consent. You grew a little pale, still locked in a stare with Him. You would've preferred him returning the punch and ending this argument over what you had just said. 

The two of you were kept in a stare, almost silent figures. His grip on your collar didn't change but his pupils shrank to a third of their size. But he looked unoffended. The grin even returned on his lips.

"Yeah. And I just said it." He said.

"Now _you_." He pulled you closer.

"Say it." He commanded. 

Despite regretting the rogue statement you were ambivalent. 

"Uh..." Was the only thing found in your voice. His countenance broke finally and you were now gazing at his white teeth of warning. His silent growl surged over your face, and you said it; the faux name that was like a thick black piece of masking tape over your identity.  

He then let go, shoving you onto the floor in a violent heap. You grunted and were slow in picking yourself back up, Peter turning away.

"Tell me something..." You started after regaining composure. He glanced back. 

"How long do you plan on keeping this up? Keeping me as your special character?"

For the first time you were wondering how long he would be able to keep up this charade of having you play a character and just being his slave in general. You were chiseling at the reality of what could happen down the road.

_Fazbear's can't last forever, can it?_

You truly wondered what the man's plans would be if the place ever went under. It was definitely a worst case scenario, but you couldn't help but to have it cross the mind.

"As long as I please. And I don't plan on stopping ever." He replied in a chilling voice.

"A hundred birthdays of yours could pass and you'll still be doing everything I want." He added this last intimidating detail before looking away and walking toward the stage. He would spend the next hour messing with unknown things in the hidden tool room, but you would be remaining in one spot, still feeling utterly powerless by his dismal answer.


	67. Intuition

It was unlike any other day that had passed since playing this character, a snag in the fabric of routine and obedience, even with all the horrific events that took place. Call it a strange intuition, but there was a special sensory on overload and a terrible feeling of premonition was painfully swimming around in your gut as it churned. 

All the happy children running around, their excited families and hordes of balloons...harmless but jubilant music playing, gaiety wall colors and mixed artwork conspiring together in several corners, odor of pastries and burning candles... 

 _It was all a veil_.

A veil hiding a grungy monstrosity and you were just now struck with an insight on how sordid it was—and you had been going along with it this whole time.

So how was it that you were just now dwelling and questioning your existence here? It was like His dark hand of influence had temporarily disengaged its controlling grip from your mind.

 _This is wrong._ Your true self whispered from the neglected depths of your conscience as you gazed out at the busy dining area. Perchance all this questioning and revolt may have re-awoken after Peter's detestable promise on you remaining in his possession just the other day; same day you questioned reality on how far he planned on going.

Never mind the fact you were adopted and unrelated to the family who had raised you up until this point. Never mind partaking in deplorable acts with Him. Never mind being the son of a dead Fazbear Entertainment owner.

_You didn't belong here._

And it was about time to elude. With the dark alternative mysteriously absent for the time being, you had a chance.

Or at least a chance to _try_. But how was one to do this?

With an impulse that had been latent for so long regaining life again, your body was drowned in a torrent of nervousness and anxiety. So many desires and possibilities nearly overwhelmed your thought process. The desire to reveal who you truly were, the desire to bring law enforcement inside the building, the desire to have Him exposed as the abomination he most definitely was.

However, believe it or not, all this was easier said than done. Although you had the new will you were still pulling on thick, rough chains. Uncertainty towered over from behind like a dark, glowing-eyed silhouette. It was impossible to decide on a logical plan. With your heart racing to dangerous levels, you were frantic and acted out of fear. 

"Hey Pup!" Zan's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was strolling by in the bright yellow Fredbear suit, lifting an arm in greeting. 

"I get a promotion and still have to wear this crappy thing on some days. Can you believe it?" He said. 

"Zan!" You almost shouted without intention.

"What's up?" He called back and stopped in his tracks. Your eyes nearly wore themselves out when wiping all over the ceiling and corners, locating every camera there could be.

"Zan, I—" You started but lost the sentence. You backed further away from the dining area near a corner, a blind-spot in Peter's office radar.

"You alright?" He asked when noticing you become eccentric. He took a couple steps closer. You held out a palm, stopping him. Zan and you _both_ disappearing from camera range would've looked too suspicious to Peter.

"Can I ...ask you a question?" You planned poorly on this but that was the issue; you still didn't know what to say and how to say it. 

"Sure?" 

"What would you do if you saw someone who was considered 'wanted', but like...not in a bad way..." You dug your nails into both sleeves.

"I'm...not sure what you're trying to ask." 

"Like..." You paused to find a clearer wording.

"What if you came across someone who was apparently missing?" You tried again.

There was little reaction from the other. He still wasn't understanding. The urge to tell but  **not** tell him who you were was at such a war to where it felt like your body was being agonizingly split in half.

In a complete and utter act of amazing rebellion, you slapped both hands on your face and slowly moved the mask upwards.

 _But Peter—_ The last bit of you that was loyal up to this point was able to protest. 

 _ **FUCK PETER!**_ The rest revolted.

You could feel your heart slugging away in your throat. It was the most difficult task in your life. Not even facing Ray the fucked-up raccoon could compare to this...

When your purple bangs were free you brushed them aside to show a clean look of your face and **[Eye Color]** eyes. You could see Zan's own broaden behind the Fredbear face. He acted like he was staring at a rare, mythical creature.

"Holy shit..." He said.

"Since when did you get the courage to do THAT?" He asked right after.

"What?"

"I TOLD you you weren't ugly! Dude, how did you live with such a condition when there was nothing to be afraid of?" He almost coughed from his bewildered laughter.

_He didn't recognize you._

Even after when he had the newspaper cut-out ages ago, he no longer wondered if you had anything to do with the strange unsolved cases and disappearances.

"No, that's...that's not what I—" You attempted to explain more butchered truths until the words were swallowed back down. Peter had come out his office and was entering the dining area. You instinctively smacked the plastic face back over yours and moved away from the bear. Both your hands balled up into fists to stop their terrified shakes.

Relief was only half-given when learning the man had astonishingly missed you showing Zan your actual face. He was wearing a familiar smile as he continued to softly maneuver around the guests. He approached Zan first. 

"Hey, close the doors a little early. I need the place cleared out today for a special occasion." He informed.

"Uh...okay. What's the occasion? If I may ask." Zan asked.

"Family of mine is coming over for a private party. Wanted to give them a good experienced without all the other kids and annoyance." Peter said.

 _Party._.. The word chilled your blood to ice.

"Cool! Never seen your fam before!" Zan said. 

"Yeah, well they don't really like being around a lot of people. So I'm giving them the luxury of having the last business hour to themselves. And that's...in about thirty minutes. So get everyone on their game."

"Roger." Zan replied.

"Don't tell him." You blurted after Peter left.

"What?" Zan turned back to you.

"Don't tell him I did that. Don't tell Peter I showed you my face." You explained.

He said nothing but his confusion was readable.

"Don't ask me **why** , just DON'T...Alright?" You concluded before treading back to the Prize Corner.

* * *

 

"You're jittery." Peter said when he was within centimeters. The feelings of trepidation from earlier had not altered in the slightest. Mask off, you steadily turned your face away from where he stood, having yet to say anything back.

"C'mon, I don't want that attitude for this party." He seemed to taunt. You could always  _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

"Screw off." You said without fear of consequence.

"You can either put on a smile or be forced to attend this one again. Cause...you just loooved the last one, I know." He replied, dropping tolerance noticeable.

You retorted by grabbing the puppet mask laying on the Corner's counter and slapping it back over your face.

"Smart ass." He remarked. 

You were quiet for a short time.

"Who's to say you'll be successful in making this happen? The police still stake out this place and it's still light outside. Oh yeah, and there's no one here." You finally spoke, thinking Peter may not even get the chance to round up his next group of victims.

 _Victims_... Another feeling of stark humanity pumped in your vessels when the word kept reverberating in your head, knocking down the morbid walls of neutralism built up over time.

"Police aren't visiting this place anymore. Case closed and we're off the suspect list." He informed and flashed his perfect teeth. 

"Besides...who's to say that I don't already  **have** my party?" He added. Your gut jumped and there was a second-lasting feeling of nausea.

_Already?_

"You don't mean—.. You already HAVE someone??" You asked with aversion. 

"Not some _one_. Several." He corrected.

 _If this were true, then where_ were _they?_

The first initial guess was inside the party room where the last victims were held.

"Fuck this." You mumbled and started toward the secluded Room of yours.

Despite all the defiance riving in your skin, the feel for rescuing these misfortunate children did not overcome the aspiration to shut everything out and turn an ignorant, blind eye. If the option to ignore and not partake in this next party was there, you were taking it.

"Hey Puppet..." Peter tried, but you disregarded.

"Trust me when I tell you you'll be a much happier person if you DON'T go into that Room." He said. There was an eager tone in his voice. 

"So I can watch your gruesome shit again?" You tossed back before making it to the door. It was oddly ajar, but only by a crack.

Without giving it a second thought you pulled it all the way open and audibly gasped, then protruded a half yell. Inside The Room you forever resided in were five children, tied and gagged in a tight circle.

And amongst them were Cady and Kayla.


	68. The last party (2)

The entire world came crumbling down (for the second time) when seeing the group of newly bound victims. Forgetting He was even around, you threw yourself inside and skidded on your knees next to the two girls who caught most your attention. The majority of the children, including Cady, appeared dizzy and physically unaware of their surroundings or what was happening to them. Their skin was pallor and their eyes glazed and foggy. Kayla seemed to have enough normal state of mind to recognize you, but not in the way you would've liked.

When seeing someone else enter the room the already distraught girl went into a further frenzy, kicking her feet out to desperately slide away from your presence.

"It's **me**!" You repeated continuously when approaching. She responded by shaking her head until you ripped off the mask and brushed away the purple bangs to reveal your eyes.

" **[First Name]** , your brother!"

When the girl finally took a long, eerie stare into your eyes after hearing that name, her own watered and she floundered, muffling behind the tight gag that you proceeded to tear off her face. Her voice was free, but she only muttered a couple words.

"Bonnie...the Bonnie..."

You could tell she was losing consciousness despite not bearing any wounds.

 _Then Peter must've drugged her, all of them_. 

Your heart felt like it was bleeding when making sense out of what she was trying to say.

 _Bonnie_...

He dressed up as the damned rabbit and lured the lot of kids in somehow. Exactly _when_ was the question, but it wasn't relevant. Not now.

His faint voice was heard calling back from afar, like a master to their canine, and your entire system boiled over. You were literally seeing red; a fiery, apathetic red. You turned and leapt up, charging out the room like an angry animal at the Purple target. He once again exhibited a shred of surprise when seeing his minion snap before the connection of bodies were made.

_Not them...not your sister. Not anyone...EVER again!_

The days and months— _year—_ worth of playing a mind-sickened misanthrope beside the one who started it all was now morphing into powerful opposition. There were no words you could grasp to express your frenetic emotions, so this only left assault. Peter had barely managed to grab your flying wrists but was able to feel the hot coals of smoldering fury against him, and he knew it was no ordinary rebellion that could be placated with patronizing.

"They mean NOTHING, Puppet! You've verified this before!" He tried reclaiming his authority, but it went nowhere. His desperate attempts to turn your anger around were exchanged with his own wrath when realizing he was unable to get through.

The devilish rage possessing your body granted a loaned strength, but nevertheless, just like with every other situation in the past, he was stronger. His hands gripped your wrists like a giant serpent, feeling bones grind, and he hurled you onto the floor with a massive grunt.

"Do not **betray** me, Puppet!" He growled in a demonic rasp while towering over, fists clenched. You rolled to your side, and he punted you in the ribs, making you gag and cough. But still you contrived to look up at the ferocious man and hiss:

"F-fuck you. I'm not letting you do this. Especially not with my family."

His casting, dark eyes widened and then tightened. 

"Yes. My **family—** I'll go to the end of the Earth for them before I ever consider the same for **you**!"

"I KNEW it!" A different voice shattered the steel-thick tension between you and Him.

The both of you tore your heads to its direction and saw a giant yellow bear coming out the restrooms.

 _Zan?!?!_ You had almost yelled.

_He was still here??_

"I _knew_ you were hiding something!" He shouted through the bear's mouth.

"Are you the one behind all of those missing children's cases?"

Unbeknownst to the two of you Zan was supposed to have changed out the bear suit and leave at least an hour ago, but he instead decided to hide and spy for reasons mainly having to do with your odd behavior earlier.

The bear began walking forward, aiming for confrontation.

"Zan NO! CALL THE COPS!!!" You hollered.

The bear had then stopped, but Peter was next to move. His eye twitched first in absolute bewildered exasperation, but then his signature death smile played on his face. You knew if the two were to meet fairly Zan wouldn't stand a chance, especially not in the suit.

You promptly grabbed onto Peter's closest ankle before he could get too far away, disturbing his balance, and he nearly fell halfway forward. He grunted again angrily and threw his foot back in a horse-kick, nailing you right in the face. Nose immediately spilling blood, you let go and now covered your pain-inflicted face. However, your efforts didn't go useless as Zan had lunged forward when close enough to him while he still recovered his balance. With the suit being heavier than the man, Zan managed to push and pin him to the nearby soda fountain.

"Pup, YOU call the cops!" Zan ordered in strident victory.

The damaging collision the two had made with the dispensing device caused several of its contents to prematurely spew out. Peter's dominating grin revived itself. Elbowing the fountain and further breaking it, he grabbed ahold of one of the vomiting hose and pointed it directly at the Fazbear's face. You tried to yell Zan's name again but were choked up by your own blood draining down into your throat.

The torrent of soda blasting Zan and the suit was enough to make him back away by a few steps, but Peter wasn't just trying to deter the other from keeping him pinned; he had a much more grisly plan in mind, and it was beginning to unfold. In a final act of regaining lost control, he gave a massive kick to the yellow bear, sending him roughly to the floor.

"Nighty-night, Zan. As always, remember to smile; You're the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..." He said just as the suit emitted a similar cracking, crunching sound followed by gurgled gags.

"Zan..." You weakly called. Peter had already returned, and you felt his fist upon your temple.

"I always get what I want, Puppet." You heard him say before being enveloped by unconsciousness.


	69. Promise?

*

It was one of very few memories you had of being close with your sister. The clumsy girl thought it was a smart idea to try a random kid's skateboard in the park; those small tricks performed looked simple enough, apparently. Least to say the outcome wasn't what she expected. One bad fall and a sprained ankle. 

Not only were you walking her home but you were also carrying her on your back.

"You'll be okay soon." You told her.

"What if I die?" She asked in a panic. 

You almost laughed.

"I wouldn't let that happen." You assured her.

"Never?"

"Never. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She curled her arms around you even tighter and you smiled.


	70. This ends now

Surroundings of the residing chamber slowly molded into place. Your head hurt, the front of your face hurt worse, and your nose all the way down to your chin was swamped with damp, clotted blood. All memory was still intact. Your mind immediately popped up the moment of when Peter had killed Zan by soaking the suit's spring-locks. Then you remembered Kayla and the group of children. Like an electric surge, your body jolted back to life. You sprang to your feet and looked around for the batch of kids who were dragged here by _the Bonnie_.

Empty. 

He had moved everyone while you were out...

Working through groggy eyesight, you almost slammed into the door and desperately tried reasoning with the lock but made it nowhere. And yet your sister was still out there somewhere;  _Out there suffering from Him._ You yelled a number of times in abject fury and franticness but your accomplishments were all the same as before.

For a fleeting moment you had the idea and nerve of beating your fists into the barrier until both your hands were bloodied and knuckles broken until you spotted the black object near your old mattress.

_The puppet!_

You almost uttered a cry of achievement when picking the thing up and digging into a socket that hid a most precious tool.

Storming out of the secret room, you felt like an animal escaping its enclosure. The hallway was vacant but near the Prize Corner was the yellow bear, slumped up against the wall, looking almost indolent.

 _Zan was alive?_  

You inspected with hopeful curiosity. The bear's head hung lifelessly, red, gleaming string-trails threading out from the yellow jaws—just like the last time you witnessed a spring-lock failure.

He deserved a mourning no doubt, but somebody else was in a far more desperate need of your attention; an entire group of others. Searching was made easy thanks to the noises coming from the stage. You saw that the back curtain and tool room door were open. With the fiery shade returning in your eyes, you gathered all strength available in your body and sprinted down the dining area, hurdling onto the stage passed the animatronics and bursting inside the tool room.

Inside held a man and a child. One was slumped against the wall—much like the mobile character outside—and one was standing upright and peering over at the doorway, astonished.

"You don't know when to fucking quit..." He fumed when seeing you had made a mysterious getaway from your prison. His bangs were glued to his forehead from angry sweat. He undeniably had made a monumental mistake when assuming this murderous deed would do anything but negatively affect your loyalty towards him, and it was far too late to correct it.

The blaze in your eyes was fueled when seeing Kayla was the one to be propped against the wall feet away. There were dark circles around her closed eyes and it was accompanied by small streams of red sourced from both her nose and mouth. It looked about as stagnant as yours, meaning she had bled some time ago.

But from _what_?

With only seconds to make a decision you were torn between going to the girl or going for the man. When Peter's grumbling was audible you made up your mind. Like a feral creature, you leapt at him and dug your nails as deep as they could go the second they touched flesh, which happened to be his neck. The initial intent was to bring him to the floor; but once more he was stronger.

"This fucking ends now!" You snarled as he roared in pain and struggled to take control of your arms. In the end he was able to scrape you off, but not without causing a lesion on the side of his neck. In turn your nails had broken, but you felt not even a tickle of pain.

"You fucking miserable—" He finished his statement by flinging you to the side of the room. The savage landing caused the work bench to collapse, spilling out various tools ranging from wrenches to screwdrivers. The explosion of sound bounced out the room and ricocheted off the main stage, cracking the dead silence.

You grunted but continued to have an immunity to pain thanks to the abundance of adrenaline. You rolled to your stomach and journeyed about a foot and a half closer to the girl who seemed to share the same state as the bear far away out in the dining area.

 _She's not dead!_  Your conscience refused to accept otherwise. Then Peter's weight came down on your back as he pressed with both hands and possibly a knee.

"No." He ordered with a surprisingly still voice.

" _Fuck off me!_ " You demanded and tried pulling out from under him. An idea suddenly charmed in your head and you proceeded to kick up a heel, striking right in between the man's legs firmly. A canine-like wince and gasp was heard and his weight lightened severely. A not-so-delighted smirk came and went on your face before determination rewired all thinking.

"I said no!" 

You made it another foot until the obstacle returned. Despite the literal low blow Peter's strength was fast in recovering, but not fast enough to keep you from reaching the large screwdriver that was amongst the many to rain down and litter the cold floor. Your hand death-gripped the handle and you knew exactly what to do with it. 

_It's you or me._

"Puppet, **NO**!" Came another despairing command as his hands purchased your head and chin. You twisted your body, ready to plunge the sharp and shiny shaft into the skull of the monster that ruined you and your baby sister's life.

"That's not my fucking _NAME_!!" You yelled at him before—

 

**C-R-A-A-A-C-K**

 

 

A thud, and then a darkness. 


	71. Give life

When opening your eyes all color and dimension throughout was completely mystical and unnatural.

It looked as if blinking strobe lights were hooked in and around every corner of the walls. As soon as you sat up all silvery flashes calmed and lessened, even changing their colors to deep, cold tones. Ever so slowly they put on new dresses of shades as you rose up to your feet. It was as if they were aware of your activity and planned accordingly to your movements, like some kind of personal theme of hues...

There was not an ounce of physical pain in your body; not even the feel of normal body functions such as hair rising or a simple pulse. If there was anything you were remotely aware of with your anatomy it was that you were as light as a feather, inside and out.

Light enough to... _float_. Like a partially worn-down balloon, you levitated off the floor below and began to glide forward, even.

Literally going with the flow, you swam through glows of tints that danced many different shades—all except for one distinct color despite it being very common to the human eye—. You drifted on like this until coming to a rectangular barrier.

Door.

It wasn't like you didn't know how to pass through one but you instead came up with another way that seemed more logical, somehow. You blinked and were immediately on the other side without the need to even physically open it. The living shades traveled with and the walls around this new area gradually lit up, as if there were a nearby sunrise.

Your emotions sprang into sudden fear when seeing two black silhouettes on the far end of this large room you had just entered, causing your visual aura to slink back into colder, timid colors. The figures were typical 2-D shadows, casted by a source not there.

 _Not there.._.

There was absolutely nothing around to produce such shapes. One was a burly figure with round ears, the other a bit more slim with much longer ears pointed upwards. You watched as they seemed to stare back with literal blank faces, resembling cut-outs of black paper, before turning their flat bodies and slowly strolling along the walls, sliding further down as if descending stairs until disappearing in a void of darkness.

In a strange world of curiosity, you acted upon impulse to follow but only made a few feet before halting at the sight of something else. This time it was on the ground.

It was a small version of a human. A _child—_ a girl. And she looked rather familiar, but something was gravely wrong. She gave off no active energy to tell you she was capable of acknowledgement or even simple functioning.

 _No...she couldn't be_...But she was.

Even in such a new state you were familiar with recognizing death, and a powerful grieving swept over your seemingly smaller body. All aura faded back into a sympathetic misty grey as you put your skinny hands over your face and mourned the child who was without a life.

Not long before discovering her body did you spy more; they were oddly scattered about the vacant area. Your profoundly enhanced sentimentality was about to pour out a torrent of gloom until noticing something crucially different about the rest of these children.

_They were alive!_

Another bizarre but natural behavior took over, influencing you to search the enormous room until finding something worth your satisfactory. There was a small section that held a vast amount of toys. It was for the children after all...

 _make them happy_.

The strange glows returned a lighter shade of radiance as you filled your long stringy arms with the appropriate amount of convenient trinkets that were to be used as presents for these lives. One by one, you plopped them in place in front of each child.

_I did good?_

You waited for the tots to spring up and celebrate over their given gifts. But none of them moved. They were beginning to match the little girl you came across only minutes ago. Their small flickers of energy were even beginning to fade out, like a flame falling down a dark tunnel. As if to try and prod them awake, you reached down and touched the closest child's flesh.

You pulled back a half-wet half-dry substance from their chin. It still even glimmered from the tip of your long finger. When realizing what it just may be, a scared feeling swept through your system and you backed away from the body that was becoming more lifeless by the second. There was the urge of fleeing and returning to the room you came out of...until you remembered  _why_ these children were suffering like this in the first place.

 _Someone_ did _this to them!_ You put together.

_But there was still time!_

However, not much.

Their life energy was next to nothing and would be so if something wasn't done fast.

_They needed to be saved. Save them!_

Your instincts ordered and you looked around the spacious room. As if your panicked prayers were answered, four figures came into random sight under a glow. Four robotic characters... They each had an aura of energy surrounding them from the inside and out.

When approaching the bear out of the bunch, you reached out both hands and the character's head promptly obeyed your silent wishes. It gently removed itself from its body, as if being invisibly dismantled. With a very new powerful gift in your hands, you were quick in returning to one of the children; a boy being first. Placing the bear's head over his, you could see his energy was immediately nourished by the pseudo, and it gradually regained strength.

To make sure it **remained** this way, you pressed down, causing noises of cracking bone and cartilage as the child's skull was forcibly reshaped to fit the Fazbear's. What would be sickening to a person was only hope for you as the sounds were precious locks securing the boy's life from fading away forever.

When the cranium was ready you returned the entire "piece" back to the bear's body, finalizing the new life you gave. And to prove this, the character sprang on, despite all its switches and circuits being off. First thing it would see would be the smiling face that not only gave it a new, beautiful life and body, but also a new meaning.

_One down...three to go..._


	72. End of days

Fred stood near Peter as they watched the next Fazbear band performance unfold when the curtains opened.

**H-H-Hey ever-r-rryo-one! Welcome to Freddy Fazbear-r-r's Pizza!**

Freddy started by butchering his greeting. The other two members of the band weren't any better. All of them stuttered and looped their lines. The adults sitting away from the stage constantly glanced at each other, whispering and gossiping. 

"Mechanic take the day off or somethin'?" A father had asked. None of the robots were acting orderly. 

The children, however, could care less. They crowded the stage and cheered for the giant robot animals in tradition as they had always done over the years. It was the pizzeria's saving grace.

"That certainly ain't normal. When's the last time you checked their circuits, Peter?" Fred asked.  

"Just the other day. Everything's up to date and all. Don't know where their impaired speech came from. They were operating just fine last week." Peter replied, trying not to scratch too much around the fresh bandage around his neck. The wound beneath still stung every now and then. It was his learning experience in knowing how hard the human nail could dig into flesh when given a reason to. Fred hadn't asked what the cause of the bandage was, which Peter greatly preferred.

"So why are you up here again?" Peter asked. Fred didn't normally pay random visits without calling ahead first.

"Just thought I'd stop by while in the area. Went to Candy's first. Kind of in honor to Doug and all...you know his father never set up a funeral? Just a quick private burial. Told me he didn't want the media to know that the victim was one of the owner's sons, possibly causing more controversy..."

"Smart man." Peter said, still leering at the stuttering robots.

A skewed look of concern molded the older man's face as he peered over at his director. The younger looked solemn, grim, apathetic. He had known him for a long time, but this was the first in ever feeling disturbed by the young man's attitude. He's forever known Peter to be tough-skinned and resilient, but now Fred was starting to see slight cracks in his mask of unique professionalism.

_Speaking of masks..._

"Hey, what ever happened to that guy you had playing as the Marionette puppet? Thought there was an employee runnin' around here with that. Customers talked about him a lot. He seemed popular." He asked when finding a new subject to jump on and release his wonders.

"Fired 'em. Just the other day." Peter answered almost _too_ fast. His face seemed to stone up even more after being asked this.

"Really now? Huh... wonder why. He seemed to make a lot of the birthday parties go 'round. I got countless positive reviews with him." Fred said.

"Got tired of his shit."

"What'd he do wrong?" 

"Plenty of things. Yeah he was great with the customers but not when it came to being responsible with the job after hours; Fights with other staff, even one of the guests, drinking on the job...dirty things like that. Had enough." Peter explained as his hand traveled back up to the bandage kissing his neck. He fought the urge to mess with it again and his hand slithered away.

"Damn. That's sad." Was Fred's only response. The thought of losing a good employee to stupid stuff such as violence and drinking was sickening in its own way to him. He no longer felt like the restaurant needed its Marionette mascot back, even _if_ the customers loved him. The real puppet would be set up soon enough, anyway. 

"Someone else quit about the same time. I dunno why, but I think the two guys were buds and were just looking out for each other. Either or, no big loss." Peter said.

"Was that the manager you said you lost? Not the one _before_ that but...the most recent one."

"Yeah, but like I said, no big loss. They're all replaceable." Peter answered. His lips thinned against his teeth and he wetted them. 

"Well...anyway...I'm just glad I came by. Seems like I made phenomenal timing with how things are starting to screw up." Fred stated when watching Foxy appear from behind his curtains and let out several butchered Arrg's.

"I wouldn't sweat it too much. These guys are at their end of days. Remember, by next week the new restaurant will be ready for set up and we can close this old place down. I already have the toy animatronics built. They just need to be wired a bit and they'll be good to go. But I have to wait for the company that provided us with them. Turns out they're still missing a few screws and can't be turned on until everything is in place. No huge deal. They just need a few parts for their endoskeletons. The old 'bots have them, but _they_ don't." Peter informed.

Fred was silent for about a minute. He seemed to be pondering on if he should listen to Peter and wait for these missing parts to come in, or if he should invest in something else. Something else that wouldn't take as long... Something else that could get him away from these failing robots as soon as possible. 

"You say these old animatronics have them?" 

"Yeah. Why?"

"Do you think we can just take 'em out of these guys and put 'em in the new folks?" 

A refusal built up in Peter's words and he bit them off, thinking of the actual possibility and benefits. 

"That...might actually work." He said.

"Well, find out and let me know in a few days. This stuttering going on with these guys is unacceptable, and quite frankly embarrassing. I'm off now. I'll see you during the new restaurant set up. Take care." Fred took one last look at the miserable characters before leaving his restaurant.

"Will certainly do." Peter replied. He spent the next minute staring at the band while prodding his bandage. There was a lambent flame of deep ire in his chest, steadily evolving into an inferno as he stared into the singing bear's eyes.


	73. Rare

*

Victor's temper practically mirrored Peter's and the atrocious thunderclouds hanging over the young man's head on days of such climate were almost twin-sets of his cousin's in addition. But whether they held the same anger or not, he just didn't strike the same intimidation into some. _Peter_ was the one to respect, even if it was a warped creation of said regard. Peter had all power over Victor. This may have been the reason why very few held no fear against him;  **Peter** was the real force to be reckoned with.

Victor was most definitely a lesser but this didn't mean his mind was clear of questions that would never leave his mouth on why the hell Peter had so many strange plans over the years. Even in Victor's standards he was at a loss of words when he found out about his cousin's biggest success.

He had known there was a specific goal ever since he started as a seventeen year-old after jumping aboard onto the family business. In the beginning it was all a fucked-up excitement for him when he was told by Peter that he had found a certain someone.

If Victor was completely honest about it, he in truth thought Peter was going to torture and do away with this certain person just like every other victim who stumble into the death path of the deranged man. For a while he was getting a kick out of him biding his time over the years for the perfect moment to turn this person's life upside down.

Victor always admired his nerve and how he had balls stronger than that of steel. The younger obviously wasn't clean of any crimes himself. He had done terrible things that went neck-and-neck with the older's, but Peter's biggest accomplishment was rather ground-breaking. But Victor greatly misjudged Peter's intentions with his prize and the biggest mistake he'd ever make was the attempt to put an end to the older's plans.

* * *

 

Victor hacked but managed to hold in the gag that would've more than likely caused him to lose control of his stomach contents.

His hand would continue to spill blood tonight, much more than it originally had.

This time he could feel the massive amounts of pain, granted it was diluted by his lingering narcotics, but still enough to make him tremble and groan. His countenance was miraculously absent of crimson despite this rough treatment—until his face was forcibly met with the edge of the party table yet again.

There was a tiny  _crunch_  in the bridge of his nose that he heard more than he felt. Now he wasn't spared the bloody additions to his face this time.

Like a faucet, the scarlet water came rushing out and over his mouth, painting his swollen gums and lips. His teeth were somehow still intact, but the person he was at the mercy of had a tempting idea of turning him over and changing this fact; with his boot.

" _I get it Peter!_ " He shouted with bruised vocals when coming up for air. He used his good hand to push on the table's edge, but his strength was useless.

"No...you don't." The calm but shadowy man above him said.

The savage grip on Victor's hair was released. Instead it focused back on his literal pinned, bleeding hand. Peter re-grabbed the end of Victor's own pocket knife and slowly pulled it out of his cousin's flesh, exposing his new wound that made the more-than-recent bite mark look like a mere scratch.

Victor groaned again when the blade left his body, his arm shook. There was finally a genuine fear in the man; afraid of the stronger creature above him. He had already tried to fight the other off but it proved to be absolutely futile—it had earned him a penetrated hand. 

"Otherwise you wouldn't have done it to begin with." 

Victor's wet palm slid down from its spot and off the table, leaving a long, red carpet trail. 

"You try taking me on again and your **throat** is next." Peter warned.

He stared at the dripping blade in odd admiration for a minute before averting his gaze to the lesser, who promptly heeded the threat.

The man in green decided to finally turn himself over and slump all the way down to the floor with his dignity as he locked stares with the more aggressive and dark eyes towering over him.

"No...I DO get it.." He found the (possibly foolish) courage to speak again.

"I apologize for trying to kill your little fuck toy. No one else is to touch him. I get it, Peter."

Even with a new bleeding wound the younger man was able to talk with a relaxed tone that paralleled the other's.

"He is of more value than just that." Peter answered and turned away from his cousin, leaving him in a messy heap on the tiled floor.

"What _IS_ your damned obsession with the Fazbear family?!" Victor's voice suddenly arose. He must've not been afraid of him coming back and adding onto the bloody injuries.

Peter continued to saunter further and further away, clearing most of the dining area before stopping and remaining still for over a minute.

"They're rare to me. Hard to explain. But it's something you'll never understand." He finally answered almost too quietly.

"Don't expect any worker's comp." He then exited out into the hall.

" _You're fucking crazy you know that!_ " Victor hurled out, spitting bloody beads.

There would be no retort from the man in purple.


	74. Stench

"Um, sir, we can't help but to bring up a problem with the animatronics..." One employee said nervously to Peter, who was in the middle of important paperwork in his office. The two guys at his door weren't worthy enough for him to turn around and give his undivided attention. He continued writing things down furiously.

For a moment he looked to have ignored them completely until he finally began talking.

"What about them?" He asked, clearly annoyed with their presence, especially in his office, which was the one professional spot he had to himself. Their time was limited and he was one step away from pushing them out and locking his door.

"Well...they're having an...odor problem. To put it simple: They smell bad. Horrible." 

"They always have." He answered immediately, hinting he didn't care about this so-called "problem", and that the two were wasting their time.

There was tense silence for a moment until the other spoke again.

"But this time it's different. It's worse. To the point where the guests and families have noticed it and started complaining. I don't wanna sound like 'that guy', but when something like that happens we HAVE to bring it up to you. Otherwise our business will be on the line. And with a problem like this...health inspectors could get involved, which looks bad enough."

The sound of Peter slamming down his pen was enough to make the two associates physically take a step back or two from the office door, crossing back over the line of territory.

"What's the **problem**?"

The other two were slightly confused. Did they not just explain it?

"What exactly did the guests say and tell you? How bad is this problem?" He repeated the question in more depth.

"Well, the last person who came up to me told me the robots were smelling...rotten. Like something was decaying. That and...apparently they're leaking. Around the eyes and mouths."

This was disquieting. Peter slightly narrowed his eyes, unsettled, and finally turned around without looking at the two before him.

Both employees were given a decent view of the bandage on his neck he'd been wearing for about over a week now. No one had the spine to ask what it was from and he clearly didn't like it being visible to the naked eye. He leered at anyone he thought was staring at the general spot.

"So just leave them running for now. The place has twenty minutes 'till closing. I'll check it out when we finish." His voice was oddly softer this time. He turned his attention back to the papers and continued writing.

When the place hit its closing hour the crew began their cleaning duties while Peter took his languid time in making his way over to the stage. Perhaps it was because of favoritism but Foxy was first on his list of inspections. He jumped up and pushed the purple curtains out of his way.

The robotic fox was slumped as usual, only his head was tilted far to the side. Much further than normal.

_Sharp!_

It was at a sharp tilt like the whole head was about to topple over. Something inside Peter thought it was slightly eerie but the rest of him shrugged it off without a care. With this attraction closing its doors for the newer model very soon, he was indifferent about all these complaints. If there were malfunctions with these bots there wasn't much to lose.

His hums were tuneless and he was growing more impatient with not seeing anything worth his time. As to double-check he pulled out a small flashlight and pointed it at the character, clicking it on.

"I don't see or smell anything—" He cut himself off when the light revealed how rheumy Foxy's eyes were. They seemed to be leaking a viscous substance. 

Upon investigating closer he saw the glossy fluid had a trail going down the eyes to the fox's cheeks, darkening the material with water stains—or what he  _hoped_ were water stains. After several seconds of noticing this odd fluid his nose and senses were surged by a deplorable smell.

"Oh—Oh my fucking G—" The horrible scent kept him from finishing his words. He almost stumbled backwards, feeling dizzy with mild nausea. He reached blindly for the curtains, desperately longing for the fresh air.

**ARRRRGH! I'LL MAKE YE W-WALK THE P-PLANK!**

He grunted in shock and came within an ace of losing his balance completely. Had it not been for his tremendous reflexes he would've fallen off Foxy's stage in front of his staff. After catching himself he leapt down and closed the curtains shut.

"Someone turn that damn thing off! They're supposed to be switched off their automatic mode after closing. None of you are new here, you should all fucking know this!" After his angry rant another employee approached.

"Fred's on the phone for you." The younger reported, killing the boss's anger. This was the only information that could slice any mood he had.

"Alright. What did he say?" He instinctively asked, unsettled. He hoped the message was harmless and able to be passed on by an employee.

 _A message that wasn't an emergency._ But it wasn't every day the owner called one of his restaurants.

"Just that he needed to speak with you asap. I put the phone on your desk." 

Peter temporarily forgot about what he had just experienced with Foxy and walked back to his office, though it was close to a run.

"Yes?...Sir?" He answered when picking up the phone. He closed his office door and locked it this time.

"Soo...I've just been informed that one of the guests made a report to the health department...There's no reasoning with these guys, they WILL be paying Fazbear's a visit. Do you have any idea why this might've happened?" Fred, the owner of the entire entertainment, began over the phone.


	75. Do something!

_What was, what is, and what should be..._

You came to terms with this void that forever trapped your existence. Despite basically being born in it, something about it didn't seem orderly. How is it that you never had complete ability to interact with certain things even when attempting?

You were like a loose seam in the fabric of reality, barely connected but allowed to collaborate with what was around, even if it was almost non-existent.

Was there a God for time? Was there a God for space? Was there a God for semi reality that the living human mind couldn't comprehend without destroying itself? Was there a God for  _anything_ and which ones did you piss off to be stuck in this state of...illogical existence?

Only living beings you ever saw were two males. One was older than the other, but the younger wasn't a child. Just...younger than the older. They weren't aware of your existence but you were very much aware of theirs. The older was violent and his energy was almost unbearable. Whenever it got too close you would flee in order to protect yourself. You saw what he would do to the younger, and it was sickening.

 _Why doesn't he fight back?_ You always wondered. Surely this being wasn't helpless. If he had a heartbeat and plenty of strength there was no reason he couldn't defend himself. But the younger would simply take harm from the older every now and then, like it was his _place_ to accept it.

"You can't just sit there helplessly..." You tried telling the younger when seeing him isolated recently. You talked but the words were not present. Your voice came out in a foggy, inaudible whisper.

 _Where was the older?_  The wonder came and you looked around the glitchy void for the dominant being. You passed by decorations and walls of strange colors until the race of a pulse could be felt.

 _A pulse! A_ living _pulse!_

It wasn't your own, but it was felt—almost heard _._

Although used to this sensation—you felt it constantly around the pair of larger and lesser—it was never this strong. 

The void went dark and then lightened again, revealing the older with...several new beings who you hadn't seen before. They were smaller, smaller than the younger. You realized the massive pulse was one big combination of **theirs,** the three of them. It was fast, frantic rhythm, and you were nearly overwhelmed by the beat of distinct fear.  

The older being was harming them.

 _Stop_...you tried saying but the older one's dark, painful aura kept you from even making a ghastly whisper. You couldn't get any closer than a few feet without feeling a new, burning sensation crawling up your body. It hurt. 

_Someone needs to help...help them!_

You needed to **find** someone to help them...

You reversed your path before stumbling upon all this, meeting up with the colorful walls surrounding the younger being.

"You..." You said.

"Please...help!" You tried yelling at the being, who was right there but not responding. They looked content and relaxed if anything. 

"Listen to me! For once, just LISTEN!" You were desperate. Finally the being's head looked up and around, seemingly aware.

 _Did he actually_ hear _you?!_

Your hopes were sinking when watching him brush off whatever disturbed him and go back to relaxing.

"DO SOMETHING!" You screamed and raised a dark hand. It came down on the younger male's face in an arc, striking the side. To your amazement he reacted from it. Your hand met the squishy flesh of the being and the impact caused him to fall over from his position.

You achieved something you were never able to do before, but it was bittersweet. Instead of getting up and becoming aware the younger scrambled to his feet and ran off in the opposite direction you wanted him to go.

"No..." You breathed out, but the male disappeared.

You turned back to where the older one resided minutes ago and tried rejoining, only...he was gone as well. The other small beings you were concerned for were still there, but their pulses had stopped, never to beat or show life again.

 _I'm too late.. I couldn't save them..._  

Sadness and disappointment poured in. Your ability to physically move was disabled as the void around you morphed. Everything melted away, like runny paint down a drain, until there was only blackness.


	76. Irreplaceable

Tired, dark circles casted under his eyes; his face that forever remained youthful. He looked up from his late paper work and scanned the office. With the night guard taking off he was stacked with extra labor into making sure the pizzeria was serene, all while completing everything he did almost every night. 

This place was growing more and more distasteful as the days passed. This very restaurant he was once excited for was now a drag. He grew to hate the vibrant decor, and,  _least he forget,_ the damned toy models! It was yet another thing that filled him with thrill once upon a time, but the love contorted to hatred.

_Love._

What a funny word; at least these were his thoughts when explaining to other people what _his_ version was.

"Have you ever even loved anything in your life?" Doug had asked him years ago when in one of the older restaurants, and Peter had rejected an admirer's affection for the nth time. Doug wasn't crazy for attention but he found it insane how Peter, who was gifted with more-than-decent looks, would be approached countless times by people in his life, only for him to shoot them down in less than a minute.

Doug wished he could have that kind of luck in attraction. He guessed some time earlier in his cousin's life, Peter  **had** a love interest that didn't go well, thus making him hate the thought of having it again. A fear of being crushed.

But he couldn't be more wrong in his theory.

"Of course I have... do." Peter answered when grabbing one of the restaurant's homemade cupcakes and licking up blue icing.

"I love this restaurant, I love the pastries here, the junk food—even though it gets dull after a while—, I love sea food, I love sleep...did I mention I love food? Love Space Invaders, kick-ass game, I love my car...hmmm...that's kind of it. I also love these heavy boots I wear; makes the job ten times easier." He ended the list by taking another large taste of sugary icing.

Doug noticed something; all these things Peter "loved" were objects.

"And y'know, the best thing about  **love** is that it's all replaceable. I lose something every now and then, like a game or two. Of course I get frustrated but I don't get all bitchy like a lot of people do. I just replace it. See? All replaceable. These boots wear out, I get new ones. The car breaks down—though I hope it doesn't—it either gets fixed or gets canned." He explained with honest perception and walked away.

Doug was speechless, and quite disturbed. There was no way Peter was being serious about all this, was he? This couldn't be what love was to him...

_But it was._

Everything, including people, was an object to the man—objects by which he gained things. They were all his little playthings that gave him entertainment. If one lost its purpose and stopped working or stopped giving him that entertainment, he replaced it with no problem.

"What about the value of actual people?" Doug had asked again another day, still unable to fathom the explanation from before.

"What about them?" Peter said.

"Certainly they're worth more than just _things_..."

"Not really." Peter responded.

"They're about as valuable as those bags of bolts on stage up there." He continued while staring at the performing animatronics.

"People are just as replaceable, otherwise hundreds of them wouldn't be spat out by sows every day." He explained further. This was just as disturbing to Doug if not worse.

"Wait...scratch that..." He rethought.

"Those bags of bolts on stage are more valuable. They're expensive and they give us no shit. Yeah, they break down sometimes but they're fixable. They do as they're told and if they're passed the point of fixing, they get replaced. The good 'ol cycle of replacement, Doug. Don't make things complicated. Learn that and life will be a lot easier for you. I honestly don't see how you stress over the little shit. I can't remember when's the last time I'VE done that or worried over the value of someone else. Then again...I don't think I ever have."

This was all he'd be explaining to Doug, though the younger wouldn't want to hear anymore of it, anyway. There would be one other time where Doug was to dwell on Peter's words. It bothered him to the point where he repeated everything to his older brother, Victor, in hopes of a disagreement. 

"He seems to get the idea. He explained it a lot better than I could've." Was Victor's response.

"Why are _you_ the only one that's not getting it? The hell's wrong with you?" He concluded with. 

Peter himself would look back on the memory a few times, but not because his mind would change. He found it odd Doug had asked him about it in the first place.

 _Why did the kid want to know about what he loved?_ Peter currently thought.

_He must've never let the lesson sink through. Maybe that's the reason why he's gon—_

His thoughts were suspended when hearing a noise rebound and echo across the empty walls of the unlit restaurant. He was the only one there, or at least he  _should_ be the only one there, but the noise was telling him otherwise.

He kept his eyes on the closest empty hall staring back at him, listening for the sound again. After going thirty seconds without blinking he heard nothing else foreign. Whatever the noise originally was it sounded soft, like something small had fallen.

He took in a deep breath through his nose and turned his sights to the computer screen that gave him live video feed of the other rooms. He tapped the large screen to view the hallways. They stood empty with the occasional pass of a fly or moth. He tapped the screen again, showing one of the party rooms where a long, sprinkled table sat.

Nothing.

Another tap; stage area.

Animatronics were immobile and lifeless like they should be.

Tap;  _Prize Corner._

He kept an extra long gaze on this particular spot. Next thing for his eyes to lock onto was the wound up music box.

 _That damn thing's annoying,_ he thought every time. When he first learned of the habits his staff had in winding the box up, he thought it was absolutely ridiculous.

The music box itself was meant to be one of the higher-priced prizes for the children. When the pizzeria had its doors opened for only less than a week the staff took it off the prize list. The reason being was because they saw it as too important to give away.

The main excuse he heard for this was that it held too much sentimental value to the restaurant. This made no sense but it's what everyone went with. The real truth wasn't far from this reason. It did have a special value to the restaurant, but not in the way Peter first imagined.

In the middle of the day none of the employees cared for what went on with the delicate musical device, but when the evenings rolled around their attitudes toward it always switched. They'd be plagued by strange feelings of being watched when cleaning the restaurant after closing.

This happened when the play area was empty of anything musical.

It was an odd intuition that told them if they didn't _hurry_ and leave the place, something terrible would happen; like a sixth sense being forced out the deepest parts of their minds and foreseeing tragedy, no matter how skeptical they were. There was one particular employee who was the biggest skeptic in the world when it came to paranormal activity and legends. He got an easy laugh when hearing how unnerved his coworkers felt working around the prize corner at night. His opinions altered after his first night shift.

"I really am sorry, sir. But I can't...I can't work in these conditions anymore. You may not see or feel anything, but there's something here. Some fucked up shit...I don't even know how to explain or describe it. All I know is that I'm not alone when I work." He struggled in telling Peter on the night he resigned.

"Of course you're not alone, you have the other bonehead closing with you." Peter told him without even looking up from the sheets of paper he was working on.

"Peter, this isn't a joke! There's _something_ in this fucking building."

"Aren't you the one who didn't believe in that stupid shit? And now you're part of it?" Peter asked. Despite the quitting he found it amusing that his most sturdy employee was crumbling.

"You sure you just aren't letting the rumors get to ya?" He finally peered up and tossed a smirk.

"You're saying THIS is just from a fucking rumor?!" The other man suddenly pulled the front of his shirt up, exposing his abdomen. On his chest were three long scratch marks, stretching all the way down. They were red in color and looked slightly irritated, as if they were one physical scratch away from bleeding under the broken skin.

Peter's lips slowly uncurled, losing expression. 

"Wanna know how those got there? Well so the fuck do **I**! I was vacuuming around the prize corner last night and felt something sharp poke me in the stomach out of nowhere. Could never find out what the hell it was, and then I get home and see THIS shit on me!" He yelled.

"And yeah; they hurt as bad as they look. They're even hurting right NOW. They're _burning_.. I **can't**! I'm sorry, Peter, I'm fucking outta here!" Was the last thing the young man said to his boss before jetting out the building. Peter wasn't all too concerned about the loss; someone else would take his place. 

Important yet unexplainable, the simple music box became a noisy trinket the staff relied on, and now he was here listening to its final dying chimes before they completely dissolved into the still air until the next wind up.

Within seconds the halls were dead silent, trigging a light ringing of nothing in his ears. He stayed frozen in spot, not moving his pen. His eyes remained on the screen showing the Prize Corner. As soon as his finger tapped the screen again he found himself flipping back to the Corner immediately.

He swore to every God there was that he saw the large gift box move. 

 _He_ swore _he saw the lid pop up just a few inches, revealing something black._  

The idle, closed box was there in its normal spot, making a fool out of him.

_What was this sudden itchy sensation he was feeling?_

He reached up and scratched the lower part of his neck meeting his collar bone. He was mildly sweating. He was nervous. 

He curled his lip downwards in a snarl, refusing to believe this as possible. He almost knocked his chair over when rising to his feet. He wasn't afraid of creations  _beneath_ him, and to prove this he stormed out his office and down the empty halls, heading toward the large play area holding the stage and Prize Corner.

A few scattered paper tickets littering the floor provided evidence as to how lazy the closing staff was hours ago, but it would be the least of his worries. What was usually a triggering pet peeve was ignored and even stepped on as he threw open the giant gift box concealing his target.

A fraction of him expected something concerning to be in his vision. He _expected_ the thing to be as his small assumptions predicted.

—but there was nothing there to say "told you so". There were no goosebumps on his skin, no icy chills in the air, and most of all, no moving inanimate objects.

His mouth stretched into an open smile, flashing his infamous perfect teeth.

 _There was nothing this thing could do. It couldn't do harm in any way,_ he told himself and even went as far as picking the puppet up from its sprawled position. Its limbs hung loosely as he stared into its dark crevasses for eyes.

"You aren't real..." He whispered under his breath at the thing before carelessly releasing. It plummeted back inside the box roughly.  

"Not anymore." He added before slamming the lid shut. His long sigh contorted to a low growl of latent ire. He turned his head sharply, looking across the room at everything else present. First Balloon Boy, then the band trio standing on their stage like sentinels.

"What are YOU all looking at?" He grumbled. Although none of the animatronics were looking directly at him, he still felt the hot burns of red lasers pointed on him.

"Was I too rough with your little buddy? Hah..." His wild imagination insisted the robots were secretly pissed at him for even remotely _touching_ the Marionette puppet.

"He's your little ring leader, isn't he? The important one. The one who isn't pleased without his precious music. All hands off the master, huh?!" He kept babbling.

"If you have so much of a problem with it then come and put a stop to me. I'll SPIT on the fucker's face if I want to, and there ain't a Goddamn thing you piles of trash can do about it. You're beneath me. ALL of you!"

He whipped his head back to the giant gift box.

"Especially _you_." He hissed at the hidden character inside.

There was a special simmering hate he held for the Marionette puppet, and it grew significantly over the months after this new location opened. It was a completion of yet another cycle on how he grew to hate something he once obsessed over. Ironic considering he used to love swearing by cycles, especially the good old cycle of replacement; his strong belief on how everyone and everything was replaceable, even valuables and possessions. 

There was just one thing, though. One thing that defied his logic of replacing lost things; one of his lost possessions couldn't be replaced.

 _They weren't replaceable. Ever_.

Even thinking about it now induced an uncanny peace within him and he ceased his attempts to antagonize the animatronics. His breath thickened in his throat and then broke apart in a subverted sigh. Another strange energy influenced him to wind the music box back up before exiting the room for the night.

The event of having his strong beliefs become unraveled threw him into a state of sulkiness, but only when he would be reminded that out of all his possessions and valuables over the years, _one_ of them was irreplaceable.


	77. Be known

Emotions—your mind was full of them constantly and there was no decision as to which hat sat on your head for the day, leaving you at the mercy of its influence that could never be pulled off. Technically you had  _two_ emotions; one being more dominant than the other, and one temporary that visited almost every day. 

The good thing about it is the feeling was positive—the **only** positivity to comfort you. Unfortunately it was still a short-term sentiment at that. Its influence wavered and broke apart after ten hours or so, leaving only the other emotion picked out from a daily roulette.

Always negative.

Outright fury, light anger, sadness, absolute sorrow, take your pick.

 _Actually you couldn't._  

And there was no end, no rest. You couldn't physically calm down and free yourself from negativity unless you heard a specific tune; a lullaby.

You weren't sure why but it had a potent spell, making everything in your mind, positive or negative, dissolve into a somnolent sensation. Despite not being too keen on immobilization—anything could happen while you were so stationary—on the contrary you didn't enjoy being a mind slave to whatever negativity sat on you the moment of awakening.

There were always different levels of anger for anything sentient. Effects could range from saying things not meant or becoming physically aggressive. Sorrow or sadness tended to paralyze its victim in weakness, leaving them to wallow in mud of woe. 

Fury was its own demon. All thoughts amplified to their worst and fights becoming bloodbaths. Like every other sentient capable of feeling, fury was your worst, but your violence was unlike any living thing. You had abilities no one else who was considered "alive" had, though some may not see you as amongst the living.

 _But you_ were _alive. You were alive and you had a purpose!_ You would always tell yourself.

_Why else would you be here?_

As long as you were around it must've meant you were needed. Yes...you were greatly needed. The ones joined by your side needed you more than anything. They had no guidance without you, no courage. Sure, they didn't seem to have a problem leaving their stations to sooth their curiosity with whom may be the guest in their residence—they also didn't hesitate to rid such guest, either—but there was one particular being who frightened them to the very core. They would never approach this person, and the only one who could convince them to attempt anything whilst the person lurked around was you.

However, these nights of encouragement were rare. On most nights you stayed hidden from everything and everyone, depending on who was around.

* * *

 

There were a small group of them; policemen investigating the spotless restaurant. Out of the four, only one was persistent on finding evidence that would help lead them in their case to link Fazbear's as a prime suspect to the disappearance of several young children.

 _Again_ , he thought. _It's always this place, this company, and they always seem to slip away scot-free._

"I'll be the one to decide if they're off the hook or not." He had said, making it clear to his partners that they were staying until every chair and party hat was unturned.

"Take as long as you want, gentlemen. I have nothing to hide here and I'm sure at least  **one** of you is getting paid by the hour." Peter told them, controlling his smirk. The same officer threw a look that evolved to a glare, but he was only wasting his energy since the restaurant owner didn't even look tickled.

 _I_ know _you're hiding something, you S.O.B. I've never trusted this place. I may not find anything on you today, but believe me I WILL catch you one day. As long as I'm around you're on thin ice, and it ain't getting any thicker for you._ The officer thought after choosing to ignore the comment. He kept on walking with his group, their flashlights scanning.

"I can turn the lights back on if you need me to." Peter offered, revealing perfect teeth for less than a second.

"That won't be necessary." The officer refused. It may have been a stupid move on his part—his team could've used the better lighting, but he did not want to take _anything_ from this guy, even if it was innocuous and helpful. He only wanted to have the last word, quite common if Peter were to boast about it.

"Also, be sure to help yourself to the soda fountain if you get thirsty. I insist. Just let me know when you get to finishing up." Peter took back the last word before settling into his office. The police man tightened his grip on his flashlight, an image of weaponizing it for that smug face soothed his pulse. 

"Continue." He ordered his partners.

The first place they checked were the party rooms. There was nothing of interest in there. One thing to catch some attention was the Parts and Services room close by. When trying to open it they were greeted with a refusing knob.

"Fuck..." One said. The lead officer, thinking he had struck gold, confronted Peter in his office.

He had been calmly reading a book when he was interrupted quite rudely.

"Keys to the parts and service room." The man of law enforcement demanded and Peter opened up a drawer next to him without even sparing a glance. There was a fraction of a second where the officer saw him look uneasy when being told to hand over the key. It was small but made all the difference.

 _I_ knew _you were hiding something..._  He thought. If Peter was going to exhibit even a shred of concern with this room then it must've meant there was something of worth in there, something secretive.

The officer kept a hand close to the side of his belt where his pistol lie, just in case this guy tried anything that didn't involve handing over the key. He was sure there was something going on in that room worth investigating, and this suspect may be starting to crack under the pressure of getting caught. Why else would he show guilt?

Peter blindly felt around for a few seconds before pulling out a ring of many keys. He held it out without looking. 

"The one on the end facing you; the small one. Lock it back up when you're done." He explained vapidly.

The officer could feel the simmer under his skin.

_The guy shows a second of fear and then hands the keys over without an ounce of hesitation, even acting like he knew nothing would be found._

Peter's attitude made him want to pull out his own hair. He swiped the key ring and headed back to the room.

After fiddling for a minute the team finally got the door open. The first (unpleasant) thing to announce itself was the oppressive smell of oil combined with must. Everything was dead silent in this black chamber save for the electrical frequency emitting from something unseen. Perhaps it came from the two red lights in a far corner of the room...

They all had the same idea and focused their lights, then almost stepped back when uncovering the resident. It was a robotic-looking face with exposed jaws on the bottom. When scanning further they realized it was the old animatronic used for the rabbit before the pizzeria received new models. 

_Bonnie._

To put it simply; it looked like _hell_.

Bonnie's face was gone with only his lower jaw remaining. His right arm was absent, maybe torn off, with the wires spilling out like shiny tendons. Large chunks of its fabric flesh looked like it had been bit off with everything else coated in a membrane of grime. Upon further investigation (with only their eyes) it became apparent that he wasn't the only occupant. One by one they found Chica, Freddy, and then Foxy. Their conditions weren't any better.

"Good lord..." An officer said. The machines were beyond pathetic; either prostrated on the floor or sitting down in an indolent slouch, like skeletons of doomed prisoners.

"Could you imagine if it  _was_ a person locked in here? No light...no contact with the outside world..." One of the men imagined, finding a bit of grace in the fact that it wasn't actual people here sprawled out on the floor.

"Why are these lame things still around?" Another asked. The leading officer, who was once so determined to get inside of this room, was first to pull back and slam the door shut.

"Obviously nothing in there..." He proclaimed, a little unnerved. Never before did he think it was possible to have so much empathy for a cold, wilted robot. He felt like he had just disturbed a sacred, illicit tomb. He stepped away to start looking elsewhere.

Next room to be checked was the stage area. Only thing worth noting was the arcade machine that kept flickering out of control. Other than this...

 _There was a large gift box by the prize corner_ , He noticed when peering in this direction.

No way was there anything inside worth looking for, it was **too** obvious of a spot—right out in the open.

 _Who would be that stupid?_ His common sense blinked so he wouldn't waste the time in investigating, but his legs started walking, bringing him to the spot holding the large gift box containing who knows what.

 _It was obviously just for decor, right?_ He asked himself and answered his own question when lifting the wrapped lid, telling himself there was most likely something inside, even if it meant nothing to his case.

He shined his light and found what appeared to be a gleaming white face staring back. He got closer and saw better details; It was black and skinny with its limbs folded up, like a piece of fresh laundry ready to go in a drawer. But the face was what gave its identity away;

Just another strange Fazbear character. Nothing worth looking into.

* * *

 

Your body vibrated with the sense of someone else close by. Not only did it feel like you were being woken up, but also pumped with radiant energy. This was a person who was visiting, and you could tell they were here to... _To be on the same side as you._ Is how you saw it.

No one ever wanted to be on your side before... But here was a person who hated the same being you despised. They were someone who could help, and for the first time you felt an exhilaration. Until—

_Until you could sense their growing doubt of your rival being a threat._

They were going to leave and never come back again. _You were going to be alone right after you thought there was a chance..._ You couldn't let that happen. You had to stop him. You were here and you needed help.

 _DON'T LEAVE! You can't just leave us!_  

You had to make yourself known.

* * *

 

He felt a sensation of ice constricting his wrist when closing the giant lid. He saw the long black tendrils around his arm and gasped. There were two black sockets staring straight into his eyes. Inside them where what appeared to be glowing blue orbs, tucked back so far and too deep to be physically possible.

The others nearly dropped their flashlights and pissed themselves when the man's screams filled the room, rebounding down the halls. They drew their guns and ran over to aid. Their initial thoughts were that Peter had attacked him, but they only found their boss on his back, pushing himself away with his feet and kicking the ground like something invisible was standing over him.

" _Get it off!_ " He yelled, but there was nothing _to_ get off. His frantic whimpers melted to blubbering as his speech diminished and he could no longer form sentences or even words.

"Get an ambulance up here!" One of them said while desperately trying to calm him down.

"It's..ehh.. uhh..." It was impossible to guess what he was trying to say, and the other officers had to pin him down to keep him from reaching for his gun and firing at thin air.

Peter hadn't rushed to the scene when hearing the very audible screams. He instead viewed all of it through his video screen. The feed had cut to static for a few seconds before clearing up again and revealing the man on his back, but Peter was relaxing casually, feeling mirthful if anything. 

The officer would never recover from his mental attack and would later be declared officially insane by specialists.

For a short period of time Peter and the participating officers would be bombarded with questions from the small media, who wanted to know what might've caused a strong grown man to literally lose his mind.

"Dunno. Everything was calm and peaceful until the guy started shouting. You can ask the other fellow officers. He already had a weird attitude the moment he walked in with his posse. Every time he spoke to me he looked like he wanted to strangle me. Maybe he was on narcotics. Shows how much you can't trust the local law enforcement..." Peter told a single reporter.

The hype would die down after just a week, and life could go on.


	78. For whom the music box chimes

Hands resting casually in pockets, he strolled through the clean, quiet halls of the vibrantly decorated restaurant. Even with most of the lights off the walls and tiled floor spoke with their own radiance.  

This was a mundane routine he almost never missed after closing. It helped detox his mind from the day's stress and chaos along with aiding him to think, allowing new ideas to unravel. What particular ideas that may strike were random, and he never shared them with a soul. Every now and then this precious time would be used to dwell on certain actions that lingered into his conscious for strange reasons.

Was he trying to feel remorse? Guilt? Regret of any kind?

Or was he simply just letting his mind take a stroll down memory lane whilst wishing he could do it all over again?

Maybe it was all of the above, or none at all. Sometimes a frown related to a scowl would hang from his face and sometimes a pleasurable but crafty smile would play. However, there were times where he had neither of the two. Sometimes he'd just walk without expression, his dark, feral eyes scanning every room he entered during these calm strolls. During this particular night he wore a scowl.

The voices of the night crew—still inside and cleaning around—lightly tickled his ears. Preferring to be alone when working at night, the annoyance of seeing others here was slowly stacking. He was passing the party room they were temporarily inhabiting and saw that they still weren't finished wiping down the rest of the table. The two scrambling men seemed to know they had a fire lit under their ass, for they were rushing and tossing broken party hats and sweeping crumbs into a shiny black garbage bag.

Peter allowed himself a few seconds of peace by staring at the shiny, large bag that was beginning to reach its capacity. He's used many of these, and still was. They hid things too well, the blackness smothering any light and forever sealing away its contents. It was another trip down the beautiful lane of memories, and to make it even better, he was still adding to them. During these seconds a small grin bloomed, replacing his grimace look.

Noticing the party room was just about spotless (and the cleaners were just now tying up the bags to toss them out), he yanked his vision back forward and moved on. His smirk slowly wilted back into a frown when his eyes met the Parts and Service room. What lay beyond would always be an intriguing curiosity in his miasmic mind, no matter how many times he's been inside it. Even now his eyes were lost in some kind of inexplicable staring contest with the thick door, waiting for something to make itself known to him.

 _Why did he think something would happen in the first place?_ He asked himself this question every time the door would enter his sights, which was almost every day. It was one loop of insanity that he for sure received no pleasure from. When he finally lost the senseless stare down with the inanimate object on the first eye-watering blink, he shot his gaze back to the side of the hallway where the party rooms were.

He only got to about a few inches of inspecting the crew's finished cleaning work when his attention was violently pulled back to the damned door after he heard what...seemed to be shuffling noises in the room. Something moving around...Or at least it's what he _thought_ he heard. He swore he did!

His eyes stayed pinned to the spot, his heightened senses now completely focused on the general area which now told vigilance that it was also bearing a shadowy aura.

_Or was he just imagining it? Imagining the whole thing?_

His heated body stiffened and he once again put blinking on hold for over a minute, all the while he waited for the sound to happen again. But there was no sound. None whatsoever. Then he realized the atmosphere was absent of a certain tune that made itself a regular practically every night.

The music box.

It had stopped.

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. He wasn't really sure why he expected there to be someone staring right at him, but every defensive instinct within him aroused, seemingly ready to fight off a danger nonexistent. One of his hands had even clinched into a fist, preparing to strike.

But at _WHAT?_

His dark eyes bounced off several corners before turning completely around and staring straight down the hall, eyeing the play area that held the animatronic band and...

the Prize Corner.


	79. They just stare

Good days with no negativity were a rarity, in the present at least. Once upon a time he may have been rolling in good fortune and all stress was short-lived. Everything was going his way for a good number of days until—

until it stopped, obviously.

He was dwelling too far into the past, he thinks. There used to be something—a possession—, a completion that supplied him with positivity. Now it was gone, though it wasn't crucial to his survival, it permanently changed his perception.

Some would argue the man was and always will be the same, but there was definitely something within his subconscious that re-patterned itself that only _he_ was aware of.

And he hated it.

Once in a blue moon he'd be blessed without thoughts and past fantasies drilling in his mind like a bad splinter.

* * *

 

Peter watched as a kid held up a birthday balloon and stood next to Balloon Boy in mimicry. The dwarf animatronic charmed its signature laughter, making even Peter almost smirk.

Almost.

Until the animatronic's eyes shot in his direction.

With its sensory now noticing him he waited for the _Hi!_ or _Hello!_ to trigger from the voice box upon recognition. No such greeting came. The vibrant eyes only followed as he passed through.

 _Owell,_ he figured, not too affected. He scanned the stage area, ignoring the hyper kids before noticing something rather off about Chica; her beak was crooked.

 _Loose._  

He grumbled. This seemed to be a reoccurring problem and it was a pain to deal with, especially during business hours where the kids would see the staff messing with the robots.

Things were better at the original Fazbear's.The older stage at least had curtains, closing off the world when anything needed repairing. 

He moved closer, calculating how bad the damage was and if it would require tools to fix or if it just needed a simple pop.

**That's a wonderful one! Do you want to know what MY favorite color is?**

Chica spoke, triggering several of the small kids around her to say yes. Most of them thought she was alive and aware enough to hear their shouted guesses. 

He had heard the crap before many times. Knowing what dialogue came next, he instinctively waited for the  **It's pink! I think that's a beautiful color!**  This would be followed by Bonnie saying his favorite was blue, and Freddy saying his was red. Whether or not the kids around them would judge their favorites was always optional. At times there would be at least one boy to criticize on how pink was a girl's color, and maybe a girl near him would point out that Chica _is_ a girl. Debates on which color was the best were also possible. Luckily the animatronics were programmed to end the specific topic with:  **Remember kids, not everyone likes the same thing, and that's okay! It doesn't make them any better or worse than you.**

He did his best to not disturb the group while inspecting Chica. Her varnished blue eyes locked onto his image, and stayed there.

She didn't move.

 _C'mon, say it! Finish the dialogue!_  He yelled in his head, only to wonder why he was so worried.

"What is it?" A girl squeaked, staring at the stuck robot.

"What's your favorite color?" She kept asking, not realizing there was a possible glitch happening.

"I bet it's orange!" Another kid said confidently. 

"Orange is ugly!" 

"Is NOT! Brown's ugly!" The boy defended. The girl laughed in spite of herself, and agreed with him before continuing to ponder on guesses. As for Peter, he noticed an unnerving detail when looking at the other two characters on stage.

They too were frozen, gazes empty as if the man had no business being this close.

 _If they've already scanned me then what's with the hold up?_ He wondered. 

The feeling of encroachment crept up, and he finally stepped backwards. When out of the reach of facial recognition everything carried on. Bonnie's head snicked back to the kids, along with Freddy's.

**It's Pink! I think that's a beautiful color!**

Chica completed her dialogue as normal. A girl near her rejoiced in guessing correctly. Bonnie proceeded in sharing what his favorite color was, and then Freddy.

"Okay...That was a bit strange." Peter admitted to himself.

 _Must be a lock up,_ he reckoned, thinking the severs were having trouble returning to their dialogues after recognizing an adult. He left the stage area to test one last animatronic.

Poor toy Foxy was now the victim of a new game the kids made up around the time this place had opened its door. Chica, Freddy, and Bonnie were safe from most hands touching them thanks to the stage. Foxy had no such barrier, leaving him open to harassment.

Kids learned real fast how simple it was to physically manipulate the endoskeleton. Technically the staff had to loosen up the joints, making the endoskeleton fall apart in a crumble if the kids were to stick their hands inside crevices between the body plates. It was all for safety. If one were to try this with the animatronics on stage they wouldn't be getting their hand back so painlessly. So it was accurate to assume Foxy was  _made_ to fall apart, but only so no one would hurt themselves. He was easy to put back together as well, but the children weren't experienced builders, plus they chose to experiment at what they could make out of the remains.

For a while the staff loathed wasting time at night in putting him back together until someone decided to just...stop doing it. The kids seemed to have more fun in making a mangle out of Foxy, anyway, thus birthing the new nickname. As long as the voice box and server still operated smoothy management didn't have a problem with this new attraction. Only way someone could get hurt from this fox is if it defied its programming and got up and attacked someone on its own.

But that could never happen.

Peter found the fox's head stuck to a heap of metal as the kids tried thinking of what to make out of it.

 **Don't forget to include ME in the fun, kids!**  

The shiny yellow eyes shuttered before recognizing Peter standing close. It was another case of being gawked at with no reaction, no talking or movement of any kind. The damn thing wouldn't even blink.

 _You too, huh?_ Peter thought.

Well that settled things.

He exited kid's cove and went to retrieve one of his mechanics. He was near the Parts and Services room when he found someone exiting through the door.

"Uh...hey." The young man greeted his boss, hoping he wasn't about to get chewed out for no reason.

"Hey. I need you to take a look at the animatronics. They're having an issue with locking up whenever they see a grown-up...aaand with how their security defense is we do  **not** need them mistaking anyone for a criminal. So I need you on this pronto." Peter informed.

His employee grew puzzled.

"That's strange, I just worked on them this morning. And they were doing fine minutes ago. At least Foxy was last time I saw him."

The both of them walked over and observed kid's cove again. Two parents had walked in to fetch their kid. Foxy's eyes spotted them and the animatronic instantly began talking.

 **Hey there! Have you come to join in?** It asked cheerfully.

Peter's gut knotted.

 _It locked in a stare with_ him _not even a minute ago!_

So what was the meaning of this...


	80. Crying puppet

A young boy around the age of six was the only one in his birthday group to not be swept away in a wild rush. The other kids had been throwing around confetti and party hats, proving how poor some of the supervision truly was.

Coming from kid's cove was a girl. She was definitely amongst the worst. He was in her sights and she gave an almost predatory smile. In her hands were a pile of shiny stickers, enough to overflow and sprinkle the floor. Before he could realize her plan she had daubed his face with the stickers. She shrilled a high giggle and ran away, pleased with herself.

He spent the next several minutes ridding his face of the glittery collage. Around this time the adults and parents had reached their limit and began rounding up the misbehaving groups.

Before he could be spotted he had ventured over to the prize corner where kids weren't causing ruckus.

The giant gift box was open. Partially.

It urged him to stand on his tiptoes and peer inside. He already knew what he'd find; Marionette, but with the box ajar he wondered if a kid placed something foreign in there. 

There was nothing else inside, but something piqued his interest nonetheless. He reached a hand in to investigate further. What his fingers pulled back felt unearthly. The substance that came off was wet and cold, almost viscous. It dripped off slowly and dissolved in thin air.

He watched it disappear in fascination. His fingers were no longer wet, but they were still cold.

His mother found him now.

"Where've you been?" She asked.

"We're leaving." She said without waiting for his answer. She was quite finished with this restaurant and the bad-behaving kids altogether. 

"Mommy!" He squeaked, his eyes still on the giant gift box.

"The puppet! Puppet's crying!" He said, wriggling his fingers that had touched substance he saw tricking down Marionette's eyes.

As he aged there would be just one instance where he remembered the puppet. He would remember Marionette's painted face along with the watery substance drooling from its black eye sockets.

He'd ask old friends if they remembered Fazbear's puppet. Some would say no and some would say yes. Then he'd tell them his story, and no one would believe him. 

 


	81. Beyond understanding

It most definitely wasn't a boy, but a teenager; almost an adult.

He was prostrated on the floor before stirring. He was slow at first when waking up, but as soon as he came to he leapt to his feet and headed straight to the door, though it seemed to stall when he tried leaving. Eventually he succeeded and bolted.

There was a strident confidence in his energy, but he unexpectedly halted at a nearby wall, eerily still for about a minute before tearing again toward his destination. He was in the dining area when a large figure stood in his way. There was no attempt to maneuver around the living obstacle. 

" _Watch out!_ " A woman cried to the man who had been in the pathway of a foggy blur, but her warning was too late. 

His breath lodged in his throat and he broke in a cold sweat, nearly falling over. He managed to keep himself upright by grabbing onto the corner of an old standing table, picking up a layer of grey dust on his hand, but he appeared traumatized—violated. His face went white as a sheet after feeling the firm, icy breeze. There'd be no way in fully describing it, but this felt like a freezing splash to the soul. However, his attacker seemed to pass on its _sentiments_  temporarily, and for a few seconds he felt what this spirit felt.

Desperation. Almost pure desperation. It was mixed with great sorrow and fury that was ready to announce itself in a clarion. It was strong enough to make him shed a genuine tear in response, as if it had been he himself under so much distress. 

"That was... unpleasant..." He whispered dryly, still under the intense spell.

"I'm picking up some strong energy. It's still around you!" A woman next to him said, pointing a strange electronic tool near the disturbed man.

"I can still feel it too. I can almost... _hear_ it.." He responded.

"Hello? Is there someone who wants to maybe communicate with us?" One of the other women asked carefully while reading the lights and signals her tools emitted. The group of paranormal investigators huddled close and almost harassed their boss' personal space for the sake of speaking with the spirit that'd just slammed into him. 

"Are you one of the kids who went missing years ago?" She asked another question.

Her device strobed madly. 

"I have a puppet that wants to play if  **you** do!" She gently offered, having the idea that a child would want to play with a known Fazbear character even in spirit form. She held a poorly made ragdoll version of the Marionette puppet in one arm, but was confident it would tempt a young spirit to show themselves.

"I feel colder..." Her boss informed as he began to tremble.

"Are you Alicia?" The woman asked as she went down a list of names of missing children from over a decade ago. 

No response from her device.

"Or perhaps Bobby?... Jill?... Sandra?" 

Her boss was quiet, feeling no other paranormal sensations. Yet.

"Are you...Diane? Cady? Kayla?... **[First Name]**?"

"Oh God it just got worse!" Her boss said right after the latest name had been thrown out.

"I can almost hear a whisper..." He added.

"What do you hear??" 

"It's weird but...I think it's saying....' _That's not my fucking name_ '..."

A slam was heard over by the squalid stage area, and the entire group tore their gazes and scurried over to investigate . . . 


	82. Scrapped (1)

_How could he have been so damn stupid, so foolish?!_

He dug his nails into his scalp with paroxysm as he read the email from Fred, confirming the closing of Fazbear's Pizzeria despite only being open for several months. 

He slowly brought a hand down to the corner of his mouth, hooking a finger on the side of his bottom lip, almost stretching it. 

"After all the work I just did..." He whispered to himself, unable to fathom how all his hard efforts still caused the entire business to off themselves.

_And not just the pizzeria._

**I'll leave telling Victor the bad news to you. Get back to me by tonight. Before 11, preferably. Just let me know you got this and I'll think of what to do soon after. Maybe we can come up with a single remaining location that's lower budget; Just to squeeze out what we can. Anyway, start pulling up the papers for all of the employees and I'll help you let them go when the time comes. Give me a call whenever you're available.**

**~Fred**

He took his hand off his head, letting the long bangs fall back in place as he put together what he needed to do while trying not to snap. After so many years of doing everything perfect with no trails left behind, he had made a single critical mistake that now costed him the entire company.

_Timing._

Timing was everything and it's been a crucial aspect to whenever he'd decide to go on a spree of slayings. It's what kept the restaurant standing for years on end without being eaten alive by controversy. He was what anyone would see as a Master in murder.

_So why suddenly THIS?_

His hatred for the new pizzeria may have been more influential on his actions than previously imagined. From an unbiased standpoint one could confidently confirm that the man had grown much more hostile since the opening of the new location and that his temper was easily triggered.

When he killed it was out of sheer morbid fascination beyond the standard cognitive skills of a human. The adrenaline was unlike any other and similar to a powerful drug, it was beyond addicting.

Because his mind was so bare on natural emotions the normal shared every day, there was only a predominant sentient that gave him real enjoyment. A thrill; and there were two ways of achieving said pleasure. However one was less risky while the other threatened dire consequences if not planned out attentively. 

When the opportunity was there he seemed to favor the less risky option, but he never fully "preferred" either. One of these thrilling deeds was the delicious adrenaline he received when going murderous. The other was—

 _wasn't important anymore,_ He'd think whenever his mind would trail back to old memories that were no longer tolerated.

The second option to give him a thrill had taken a death dive before the new pizzeria opened, but there were rare moments where he'd dig into old memories and perhaps experience that particular thrill once more by just the work of nostalgia. 

He usually gave up when realizing how tasteless it was. 

It may as well have become extinct. And with one method gone it came down to the other working twice as hard to keep this thrill going. 

In all honesty he could've just yanked on the leash barley holding his wild urges back, but if he were to do so then he wouldn't feel  _anything_ in his mind. This didn't count the annoyance of his 24/7 demanding job along with the staff he babysat. He hated these negative emotions, and that's where his creations of thrill came into play.

Now he needed it a lot more than he thought he ever would; what was usually an occasion that happened a few times a year became a few times every other  _month_. He didn't wait things out like he was supposed to. His last deeds were a trio of murders within just two months and the restaurant was on the authorities radar.

Astonishingly, the phrase "things could be worse"  **did** exist in this situation.

_It could be a LOT worse..._

He managed to cover his tracks by framing the murders on an employee. The chosen staff member was a young man with an addiction to drugs. Peter never liked this guy—he reminded him of Victor, but he at least had some uses.

Like always, he was careful and astute in planning the entire thing out; his closing employees would finish their duties and report to the boss when finished. From there he'd dismiss them for the night. All except for the druggie (as Peter called him).

"I need to check the voice boxes on the characters. Wanna help me out? I'll throw in a double-pay for today." He'd offer the guy and knew he wouldn't be getting a refusal since this kid would do anything for extra cash.

Onto phase two of his plan.

Peter always had access to his own narcotics, though he never took them himself. They had their purpose and he was about to demonstrate. 

He took the proper amount needed and laced his employee, who hadn't the slightest idea. Within only five minutes of messing around with Balloon Boy, Peter could see the change in the kid's pupils, which was the cue for phase three.

From there he'd fall victim to amazing hallucinations. When sobered up he'd be sitting inside a cell room with his hands tied for his own protection, having no idea how he was at fault for the gruesome death of several young children with multiple deep stab wounds.

Evidence of drugs in the young man's veins along with his finger prints everywhere was everything the authorities needed to charge him with the murders of the missing children. All this and Peter was able to stay out of anyone's suspicion because the killer had already been caught. But the victory was bittersweet.

First someone gets bitten by an animatronic, then children get dragged into the pizzeria and murdered. No one could blame the public for not wanting anything else to do with Fazbear's.

If only some damned employee hadn't opened their mouth about Foxy's (or "Mangle's") mess-up...


	83. Scrapped (2)

It came and replaced all instincts.

What took over general thoughts were the priorities of making the kids happy. And it was easy to do; all that needed to be done was gift surprise presents to children. Their happiness helped influence the energy constantly flowing around you, changing your mood with it. If they were happy, you were happy. There was a small period of time where happiness was the only _thing_ you knew. 

You didn't think you'd be relaxed and find positivity in this state. For the longest time you weren't entirely alone in this. There were many behind you who wouldn't hesitate to become an aid in any plans that may spawn.

Your newer "help" were even more... _advanced_ than the original. Of course you were grateful to have  **any** sort of assistance on your side, but this new group had natural abilities to see if anyone was considered friend or foe at any time of the day. It helped narrow down searches greatly. It wasn't just one person on the radar, it was _anyone_ with an aggressive history who dared stepping foot in your residence.

They were influenceable. It's as if you had a remote to every one and could activate them at will. Making them mobile during the day was a little harder than controlling them at night. Most you succeeded in was getting them to lock targets at a particular person, but nothing else came of it.

And then there was your latest "success". 

_Robots made mistakes too. Mistakes happen..._

Perhaps the judgement in the newer animatronics were failing to see who was a genuine threat and were causing more damaged than intended, but you put no leash on them...not when there was a tuneless night with no chimes from a certain box, the only effective sedative. The last security guard would learn this, possibly for the rest of his life. He didn't die but his cranium would be reminding him of the incident for as long as he lived.

"The _robots_?? The robots are becoming dangerous?!" Someone from the public panicked when hearing that the man's injuries had come from the restaurant's very own animatronics, who were supposed to be _protecting_ the guests. The incident even earned it's own "name" as a mark in history. It was a deadly blow in Fazbear's reputation.

You were indifferent about the whole thing and the routine was carried on with zero change.

Until the scrap happened.

Little by little you could feel yourself losing numbers. The extra help was being destroyed and you were powerless to object.

_Your entire SANCTUARY was being destroyed!_


	84. Factory

"This is still pretty fucked up, Pete." Victor put in his two cents while caressing his bandaged hand. After two changes it was passed the point of hurting now.

Two days ago he was called into Freddy's to help the mechanics with the toy animatronics. They didn't do too much of a shabby job but they weren't quite fast enough for Peter's liking. He wanted the task finished within a number of hours and it became clear that this wouldn't happen unless he had someone else who knew what they were doing.

"You guys are scrubs." Victor would insult the young mechanics and laugh even while unscrewing a few bolts on a model. Chica was the first in having her body plates removed, starting with her arms. He threw bright yellow pieces onto the floor with little care. 

"You should be more cautious with that. We're getting paid for those parts and it's not a good idea to risk messing any of them up." One of the young men said, suggesting Victor treat the shells more carefully.

When hearing the "tip", Victor was more aggressive with ripping off the next plate. After the last piece of Chica's right arm he rested his hand in her beak, preparing to pull it off next.

"First off, let's get one thing straight," He looked over his shoulder but wasn't staring directly at the guy who dared to call him out.

"Only people getting paid for these things are me and Peter. So if I were YOU I wouldn't worry about any shit that has to do with these damn—"

Suddenly the animatronic's head fell forward, jaws closing on Victor's hand. His scratchy voice leapt, morphing into a loud yell of terror and pain as the robot's dialogue activated.

**Gather around, kids! You're gonna have fun!**

The feminine voice was vibrant and chipper in between Victor's yells and the mechanic's panic in trying to pull the large robot off. Victor finally used his other hand to sock Chica's head, causing her beak to come off as she fell backwards.

"Turn that fucking thing off!!" He bellowed, holding his fresh bleeding hand. The two men aiding him flipped the chatting Chica over and tore off one of her main wires. 

"God-fucking-dammit..." He growled, wobbling away from the stage area.

"How bad that thing get you?..." One of the young men felt rather stupid for asking this, considering Victor was already bleeding to the point where it was spilling onto the floor. He prepared for the man to come back at him with something among the lines of, " _What the fuck do you think, dumbass?!_ "

"Enough to where I'm done with this shit for tonight. Just go home! Peter will have to deal with this himself another night." Victor found a clean rag he left on one of the arcade machines. After just five minutes it was used up with his red fluid.

The mechanics did as they were told, abandoning the toy models for the night. Peter would later be on the edge of having a fit until hearing what exactly happened that caused Victor to call it quits for the night.

"Alright...Then it's just you and me. We'll get back to this in a few days. We have time anyway...Fred delayed some things but it works out in our favor." Peter told him. 

Victor's unpleasant memory of Chica's jaws clamping on him sent a cringe throughout his body. There seemed to be a plague with his hand receiving savage scars...

 _Fucking beak,_  He grumbled in his mind, but still found it alarming that the animatronic triggered randomly. He blamed the mechanics for not shutting the damn things off, but in truth they actually had.

"I didn't ask for your meaningless two cents. You're lucky I'm allowing your brain to even  _function_ anymore, after the shit you got me in. Get it done. I've finished getting the rest of the toy models out the pizzeria. All of Candy's shit here should be in the factory by morning. That's on YOU; Have fun. And I'll be checking in the morning. You're on your last strike with me, _cuz_." Peter growled at him, hauling a large bag over his shoulders. He let out a loud sigh and started making his slow way toward the exits, but stopped to give Victor one last order before taking off.

"I'll meet you back up at Doug and Rachel's tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget to take the parts that I asked for off the animatronics. They'll do well in replacing a few of the limbs that went out. And....theyyy'rrre... the last things we have of this entire company." He stated, his voice trailing off, lost in the air.

Victor raised a brow and looked up, sensing discomfort in his cousin's voice. He attempted to make eye contact but Peter had turned away, his grip tightening on the bag.

"Are you...worried? I mean... we'll be fine. Business going down or not, we're still set for life. But...are you gonna _miss_..everything?" Victor felt very strange for asking this but the question bursted from his gut.

 _Things changed. For better or for worse. It was never the same old thing_. He knew this but he didn't like it. He didn't like saying goodbye to the place that brought his life so much excitement.

"Not even in the slightest." Peter answered, his voice being back to empty and cold.

"Does that also go for—" Victor started another question but was cut off by Peter in a matter of seconds.

"Don't know if you put anything rancid in your veins tonight that clouds your already shit judgement, but you know damn well to _never_ mention THAT to me. Stop while you're ahead, Vic."

Whatever this question was, Peter already knew of its contents and denied it being brought forth. This was when eye contact was made and Peter's violent glare forever dominated Victor's, who heeded the warning and just remained quiet.

When convinced he dropped the subject, Peter finally met the front doors and pushed on them, exiting. The sun was still a couple hours from setting but the vibe of everything being dark and dour and departed was there. Victor's expression was vacant for the next several minutes. He moved his head down, looking at the colorful floor that had stayed varnished and reflective ever since the restaurant's doors opened for business.

"No matter what I get high on...I'll always believe that I'm still more sane than _you_..." He said aloud, wishing Peter was there to hear it. 

"What I put you through," He kept mumbling to himself as he opened up the large boxes reserved for each remaining animatronic.

"What about what you put **us** through; Me and Doug? Poor bitch ain't here to defend himself but I'm sure as hell he'd agree with me. YOU started this, Peter. You and your obsession over the Fazbear family; your fucked up collections." He spoke like Peter was still standing here, though he wouldn't have the balls to say anything if this were the real case. He plopped a large roll of duct tape on one of the empty tables, ready to seal the boxes back up when needed. 

"Alright...Who's first?" He asked the silent waiting robots that were lined up in a row. He approached them, deciding in his head on which to package first.

"How sad no one offered an amount that was as high as the Fazbear characters on you guys." He said, thinking back to when Fred told him and Peter that the company receiving all the toy model scraps weren't so interested in Candy's models. 

 _Candy's was the one who came up with the toy models first! Fazbear just followed the idea,_ He thought. As for Doug and Rachel's...forget it. No one would offer a DIME on those vintage bots. Once he and Peter hauled _those_ guys out of their restaurant they'd be lucky if they lived to see next week.

He snorted at these likely possibilities and took out a small power drill from a tool box he had resting on the floor.

"Well then... how 'bout the most favorite character of the place? The precious Candy himself." He offered, grinning. He approached the large cat and started the drill up a few times, testing it. After satisfaction he placed the drill on the cat's right arm and began undoing several bolts.

"Don't know how all this shit is going to be useful to you, Peter, but...whatever." He muttered to himself and kept disassembling. When finishing he tossed these parts taken from the cat into a completely different box that would be going to Peter once completed.

With several "bones" missing, Candy was a bit hunched over and askew. He was still able to stand up, but not straight. Victor supported the robot and carefully set him in one of the prepared boxes. He grunted, not looking forward to the rest—not by himself. But having no choice, he got to work on Chester next. This was a character Victor seemingly hated for no real reason. He just loathed the chimp. Because of this, he was extra violent in disassembling him and even threw him into a picked out box instead of simply placing him inside.

After a series of drilling sounds he was soon down to the last two characters; Rat and Cat; the Original models. They were to Candy's as Yellow Bonnie and Freddy were to Freddy's. They were about as old, too, and it definitely showed. Victor was mesmerized by the two withering characters.

"You did me well. Both of you." He was overwhelmed by nostalgia the two ancient animatronics filled him with. He squeezed the power tool hard, growing more distressed about the fall of the restaurants. Unlike Peter, Victor wasn't so resilient with change. He knew he had nothing to really fear when it came to living comfortably after this, but it was the end of his  **hobby** that had him growing frantic.

He put a hand on Rat's long muzzle. It felt too different from the other models. With missing eyes and dingy body material, their looks would strike fear even into adults. However, they were the most precious things in the world to this man.

He would be missing the thrill. Technically the company would be standing on its last leg with the "new" Fazbear location Peter was setting up, but it just wasn't the same! Victor wouldn't be getting anymore opportunities to perform his fun, and quite frankly, Peter seemed to be giving up on his similar hobby as well. Or maybe it was just because he was more responsible, thus focusing on the tasks at hand rather than personal activities. 

After coming to a decision Victor boxed up the ancient models and taped the rest of them shut. He'd be dropping off the other robots, but not Cat or Rat. No, he'd be KEEPING them. He knew he'd probably be dealing with Peter because of this minor "rebellion", but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. One by one he loaded the boxed characters onto a truck and started the journey he was dreading. By the time he reached the closed down factory (which he hated being in), the sun had set, bringing out the thick cover of the night.

* * *

 

"Why HERE?" He asked himself, still finding it odd Fred and Peter chose this factory as some resting place for Candy and Rachel's characters.

When hauling the last box in a chosen dark chamber, he took a moment to catch his breath. The day's tasks had worn him out and he was about ready to just go home and turn in. He would've done just this if it weren't for a new (yet old) exasperating feeling evoking under his skin.

Instead of calming his breathing quickened and his face began to sweat. This was like a second nature to him and it was one of the very few things he feared; he was having a withdrawal, triggering him to release a few swear words and reach into his pocket for three distinct objects:

A small bag and a pipe and a lighter.

He'd been wanting to quit this sick addiction for a long time, but never had the strength to.

He walked over to a large window the torn up room sported. From this viewpoint he could see a depiction of town that any artist would be happy to capture. The full moon hovered over businesses and residences like a watchful amber eye. 

"Place aint' too bad after all I guess..." He murmured when gazing out. He broke the stare to prep his meth pipe for heating under a small flame.

Across the large room lay the boxes he brought in. Unfolding within them was an unusual rejuvenation process that didn't take place physically, but spiritually. Night was calling out to all nocturnal creatures and the sentients inside their cardboard containers were amongst the many that were answering. The one box furthest from the man was beginning to breathe, even _._

—or at least that's what it appeared as from a distance. Take a closer look and one would realize it was actually being pushed on from the inside. Whatever was being contained was pressing on the taped crease. Eventually it was punctured through with a long, sharp end of an endoskeleton finger.

Upon making it passed the binding material the metallic piece traveled downwards, following the strip's trail while slicing through. When loosened enough, the flaps were pushed open like wings preparing to take flight.  

Ever so slowly did something with pointed ears rise from its weak cardboard tomb and step out onto the floor. It released a noise from its mouth that sounded like a cross between soft static on a faulty radio and a sigh. Without any proper light sources it was only a shadow in the pitch black room, turning its head toward the man who was growing frustrated with his narcotics.

"Fucking melt already!" He yelled with impatience. His muscles were already trembling from anxiety, making it hard to hold both pipe and lighter. The tiny crystal formations were halfway melted when he heard a shuffling, making him peer up by instinct and spot what was hunched over and progressing toward him.

"You're supposed to be—"

It was by habit that he first decided to call the animatronic out on walking around when it was "supposed" to be off, but the quick reality delayed in his mind until he dropped the hot pipe from his hand. It shattered excitedly on the hard floor. He never even got a single dose of the amphetamines.

"No..." Was the only thing he could get out of his mouth when watching the robotic cat close in.

 **Hey** , **C-Cindy** , **wanna come see the birthday boooiii**..

It spoke in a dying voice from its vocals that Victor swore he disabled until it stopped in a low, gurgling tune.

"Oh God..." The man whispered as he froze up.

"You can't be real... You're just a hallucination. It's just from the drugs...from the withdrawal!" He told the animatronic that came inches away from him.

**Yourrr problemmmmm...**

The electric vocals gurgled. 

"You're not fucking REAL!" He yelled, struggling to convince himself.

Candy's exposed arm swung out to the hysterical man, slicing him across his abdomen. The hole where Candy's missing eye sat revealed a red light behind it. Victor attempted a scream after feeling a sensation similar to a hot knife entering his flesh, but it came out as a gasp as his warm blood drooled down his mid section. In a stroke of boldness (or perhaps bravery) he threw himself forward, ramming the unsteady robot. His weight was enough to knock the thing to the floor in a hefty _thud,_  and whatever bravery possessing him during that one second was now gone. Candy hurled up a skin-crawling growl that sounded like a deplorable upset stomach and an angry bear as it attempted to recover back to its feet.

_It was pissed off! It was pissed off and expressing it!_

Not even the animatronic's provided voice modules could produce this kind of sound.

Victor leapt to the side and began running for the open door when he noticed that all the other boxes were beginning to shake and move at this point.

Everyone else was on their way to join Candy. Blank couldn't contain himself any longer (quite literally) and impaled his handless arms through the box flaps with menacing aggression.

 **I c-can't wait** , **C-C-Candy!**

Cindy's broken voice was heard through the closed box she was working her way out of. Next was Chester's ape-like screams as he threw himself around so hard that the box flipped over to its side.

Victor shot his head left and right, watching the supernatural chaos unfold in front of him and was unable to have a proper reaction at the same time. His breath butchered as he desperately tried to keep himself from having a full-blown panic attack on top of his withdrawal symptoms.

Candy was on his feet and making his way back over to the panicked man,  _faster_ this time. This was when Victor finally jackknifed it out the room and slammed the door shut. Without an outside lock he resulted to just sprinting for the factory's exits, never looking back once. 

The outside world was still serene, including his truck that held the two remaining boxes he planned on keeping. They were immobile and silent, like boxes **should** be. He glanced at the factory's doors only once.

They did not open. He DID however hear a crash inside the building. It was faint, but noticeable.

 _Those things busted down the door_... His mind told him and he leapt inside the vehicle. He swore several times before getting it started and sped off, leaving behind the now monster-infested factory along with a short trail of scorched rubber.


	85. Revenge

He would've torn up the road to get back to Candy's, if it weren't for the fact that Doug and Rachel's was the closest.

He wouldn't be returning to the characterless restaurant just yet. He needed to calm himself, and he needed a hit before his withdrawal worsened. He remembered that he dropped his pipe and narcotics back at the factory, but there was no way in hell he'd be going back. Luckily for him he had a safety net squirreled away at Doug and Rachel's. It would be an acceptable "stop". 

He entered the building, eyes glassy and swimming through their sockets. He teeth chattered like it had been freezing outside. Most of his adrenaline was worn out and he could feel the burning in his abdomen accompanied by wetness. His shirt was torn and half-soaked in his blood. Everything had clotted by now. Candy had sliced him good, but not good enough to cause fatality—the cut was long, but not deep. 

"The fuck was that? Did I fucking hallucinate that shit?" He questioned aloud, assuming his withdrawal spasms played a part in this. His torso would say otherwise... 

He certainly didn't do that to himself.  

 _Or_ did _he?_

He put a hand over his wound, covering only part of it, while thinking back on past drug trips he experienced in life. He did plenty of non-consensual actions his body forced when zombified by narcotics. He's seen things (like every other hard drug-addict), and has definitely harmed himself accidentally and unknowingly during trips. Hallucination wasn't uncommon for him during withdrawals. He leaned on the doorjamb and thought about the factory again, convinced that if he were to go back he'd see that all the boxes he put away were closed up like they should be and resting in their proper places, no mangled animatronics loose and wreaking havoc like poltergeists. 

He hallucinated, that was all. His mind spun an unreal image of Candy's characters rising like the Undead and—

Victor sniggered and gave a twitchy smile, sliding down the doorjamb by an inch. His fingers pressing against his wound were glazed up by this point. 

It wasn't unlike anything he'd hallucinated before. In fact, he's had similar trips. Even in this very restaurant he could recall a time when he thought he saw Rachel's band defying their programming and spilling out from the stage into the other parts of the building one by one...

His wound gave a mild pulse of stinging. He imagined he had scraped himself against the flimsy, ragged door when fleeing the scene after being overwhelmed by the hallucination. Yes, he must've done all this to himself; wouldn't be the first time. 

"Couldn't have been real, Vic. It was all in your head. Those things did not come to life and attack you." He repeated to himself several times before standing back up and moving away from the entrance. He lingered for a minute before starting toward the stage area. Rachel's Band were as immobile as ever, barren of life and unaware that they'd be destroyed within the next week or so. 

 _They aren't alive_ , Victor thought while holding his stare with the animal group, proving to himself that there was nothing to fear. Doug and Rachel were motionless and slack-jawed. The two members behind them were just as inactive. 

 _Empty robots,_ He concluded before ending the stare-down and staggering back. His skin felt like it was riving. He needed his drugs. 

He left the silent dining area and walked to the office. Papers were scattered and the room almost looked ransacked. The new director of this restaurant wasn't as clean as Doug, Victor said in thought. This new kid was also proving himself to be unfit for the position. 

Or perhaps Victor was used to and preferred the office being super tidy thanks to his brother's OCD on sanitation. Quite the hypocrisy, one may think. One could also assume he was _missing_ his brother, but as far as feelings were involved, Doug was only seen as a convenience and nothing else. Victor hadn't even shown up to the miserable gathering his family called a "funeral".  

Pushing the thoughts about his dead brethren away, Victor knelt by a small drawer that held the safe. Wedged in a far corner inside were a couple of tiny plastic bags.

"Still there, huh? Shows how much that dumb bastard knows about this place." He mumbled to himself, still trashing the new director while taking out one of the bags. He swept away several forgotten folders with his hand, letting them topple to the floor. He used the freed space to pour out the bags' contents. 

"Gotta do the best you can with what you have..." He muttered, pulling out a razor blade from his pocket and cutting up the narcotics into a fine powder. The next couple minutes consisted of him queasily snorting the powder, followed by coughing fits. Then he released a sigh like he had just eaten delicious food after starving for days.

"Better..." He said in a hoarse whisper.

The drugs slowly took over his system as he left the office and trekked the hallways again, waiting for the paranoia to leave his body altogether. Within five minutes he was no longer disturbed by the recent images of Candy's animatronics rising from their boxed graves and coming after him.

 _Yes, it was just all in the head. But things were better now. He had his fix._  

Blood began to trickle out his left nostril, but wasn't thick enough to drip off on its own. It reached to his lip and stayed. He didn't bother wiping it away. 

"That's right," He threw out in a low, raspy voice.

"You're all just robots. You aren't alive... Just a bag of worthless bolts. And you'll be next to get scrapped." He hounded Rachel's characters while staggering further down one of the vacant halls leading to Ray the Raccoon's hut. As old fear exited his body in sweat, his deranged arrogance was returning. His dirty (and slightly bloodied) face was only a topper to his renewed madness.

His disrespect for the entire building and every animatronic was present once more. It was finalized by a wheezing laugh. Succumbing to the ridiculous effects of his toxic drugs, he found the odd (and rather frivolous) urge to swing his body around and stare at the Raccoon's hut, almost losing balance. He held up his right hand, pointing a finger at the dark entrance where the hermit character took refuge. He didn't see the thing, but he knew it saw **him**. 

 _IF it was alive. It would see him if it was alive._ Which it wasn't!

"YOU though...you might be of some use. Use to us..." He said.

"You're the special one, aren't you? The one that has a purpose beyond being some entertainment gadget for the little shits. You're the reason my poor bastard of a brother died."

Another morbid laugh. 

Victor got a funny kick out of talking like this to the insentient object. He imagined that he was doing a mass firing back at Candy's and was sparing a single employee from the job loss. He reached into his pocket and took out the small flashlight he kept. After a snick he beamed it inside the hut's opening. He was greeted with the Raccoon standing far inside, half hidden and unseen. His head was titled sharply, jaws agape but immobile. His physical position would look uncomfortable to anyone.

_And also downright creepy._

Ray's exposed fangs gleamed in the beam of light. Victor noticed that the sharp neck position resembled the way someone's head and neck would be if they were hanging by a noose. Broken _._ Ray's neck looked broken. _Snapped._ And as another add on, his mouth was open like a person's would be as well.

_Only thing missing was a tongue hanging out._

Victor formed this in his mind and curled his lip in disgust.

"Hehh. I bet if you WERE real you'd be begging me to keep your job. Y'know... I haven't turned down a lot of favors by employees in the past...but _you._..I'd definitely turn you down.. You ugly bag of nuts and bolts." The high man laughed in hysterics at his own crude humor before shutting off the flashlight and turning his back to the hut. His excessive wild laughter was interrupted by a mechanical whirring noise lasting several seconds, followed up by a sound similar to the gurgling growling fits he remembered hearing back at the factory. _Before he saw—_  

He whirled back around and jumped back. 

A pair of two, small red lights were illuminating in the dark hut. They remained crimson for another second before flicking to a white. More mechanical whirrs were heard as were footsteps; one heavy while the other faint. The lights bounced and out came Ray steadily, head tilted (though not as sharp this time) with his jaws closing, then opening, and closing again. Unexpectedly, Victor stood his ground, challenging the raccoon's snarling mouth with his own. 

"Am I gonna have a problem with YOU too?" He asked, thinking that the movement unfolding in front of him was yet another mind hallucination. Or perhaps—

"Your shit programming is malfunctioning again, isn't it? That's an easy fix..." He stated confidently and snicked his flashlight back on.

"Guess I accidentally triggered it a second ago. Of course..." He moved the light back in the robot's face and flashed.

**Howdy! I'm Ray, the b-bandit...**

The animatronic's voice coughed out.

"Shut the fuck up, Ray.." Victor responded to the scripted dialogue, chuckling a little. Ray quit his talk and stayed still. The light in his eyes faded as his head slowly drooped.

 _Off,_  Victor declared.

"While I'm at it I might as well turn you ALL the way off. Won't need you on anymore, unless Peter can think of another plan for you. I personally wouldn't mind keeping you around. You have a programming that can come in handy. It's just too bad Foxy the Pirate couldn't stay on board with the project. Hehehh...no pun intended." He spoke to himself and approached the slouched raccoon.

Ray suddenly opened his jaws so wide that the bottom looked like it was about to snap off. A bellow Victor had never heard before was released from the animal's maw. Then he felt heat on his body again, but it burned far worse than the last wound he previously received.

And it penetrated.

Ray's robotic fingers gored through the side of Victor's stomach—right in-between the lips of his previous cut—to where he thought he could feel his kidney being tickled. Not even the drugs could keep him from feeling this...and terror at the same time. He gasped, dropping the flashlight, and actually pulled himself _off_ the raccoon's grip in a sickly wet noise. He immediately looked down and saw the dark red liquid dripping off the two metal fingers Ray had pointing.

 **H-Howdy- _HI VICTOR_ -Howdy!** 

The fear finally boiled over and he began to run.

Running away from Ray.

_Running for his life!_

But he'd seemingly forget that Ray had the ability to run as well, in which he would...and he did. The heavy stomping dominated the man's frantic steps, awakening the quiet halls. Victor got about as far as the party tables when he felt metallic limbs come down on him from behind. He was grabbed and hurled against the wall, disturbing a hanging canvas a kid had painted on ages ago and causing it to fall. He caught a glimpse of the stage area; every member of the band was looking directly at him, eyes broad and rapt. 

He was grabbed a second time and picked up.

 _Oh God it's got me!_ Was the only thing his brain could comprehend while being lifted.

He had no choice but to look at the raccoon's face.

He hyperventilated, his wounds on fire. There was a part inside him that still truly thought this was all a huge malfunction on the animatronic's part. Until he remember what the thing said to him back at the hut.

_"Hi Victor!"_

_Hi Victor_...This thing didn't know any names other than its own. 

He was given more answers when seeing Ray's eyes. They were no longer a cartoon purple with gleaming whites around them. They were a shiny coal black with ethereal lights the size of needle points in the middle.

**P-Poor bastard..**

Ray's distorted voice whispered.

* * *

 

"Now YOU?" Peter said in extreme vexation when discovering Victor's body an hour later. Ray was back inside of his hut; all the evidence that told what had happened was glossed on his jaws and hands, and a fine trail was left from the hallway to the hut like bloody crumbs. 

"A sixteen year-old was able to shut you off but not a full-grown man? Figures..." He said when inspecting the painted mess on Ray. The animatronic never showed a sign of turning on. It was like the thing could _smell_ the utter domination Peter had in his energy.

_And he knew this._

"Well...glad there's no guests to see you anymore." He joked grimly. He planned on finishing the job Victor was supposed to do in hauling Rachel's crew out the closed restaurant, but he needed to tend to a new task: Hauling out Victor's body.

Not even feeling a flake of sadness or sorrow when removing the corpse of his cousin, he used one of the large boxes that held a Candy's character.

"Make room, Rat." He warned the old animatronic (that was supposed to be at the factory already) before dumping Victor's body in with it. 

"Guess it's a good thing he kept at least one of the boxes, character inside or not. **I** sure as hell didn't bring anything with me..." He said before re-taping the box.

As Rat's insides were filled with the trickling cold blood of an organic monster, a new life would be nourished inside, causing the animatronic to be blessed with the gift of sight despite only having sockets for eyes. It could physically see its old run-down surroundings, becoming aware for the first time.

As for the other animatronics that'd been dumped hours prior, they were left to rot.


	86. Scrapped (3)

"Hey Pete..." An old mechanic went up to Peter after throwing away the last of the party streamers that used to hang in the birthday rooms.

This was the last day of the clean up.

"I'm sorry...about your cousin...Victor. It must be hard to lose both of them in similar freak accidents." He expressed his sorrow for the recent death of Victor. It was amazing that the guy still had respect for Vic, even when he was treated like shit under him.

"Don't bother me about it." Peter responded to the kind thoughts. He proceeded to pull out a lighter and cigarette, starting a random smoke break; might as well since the fire alarms were disconnected. 

The mechanic stared at him, confused a little. He first assumed that Peter didn't want to talk about it simply because it unnerved him, but with how calm he looked, even _before_ the cigarette was lit, something told the former employee that Peter was heedless of Victor's death.

"Just worry about pulling the remaining wallpaper away. I don't wanna be stuck here for another night."

Before the mechanic could respond, Peter turned to one of the other working men.

"Hey, is the decor gone? That includes the giant gift box from the Prize Corner." He asked, speaking like he wouldn't be taking any possible delayed excuses for an answer. The worker casted an eye and answered:

"Uh, yeah..." 

Peter could tell he was hiding something more...

"Just one problem, sir..." He continued, displaying mild nervousness. Peter took the cigarette out his mouth and tautened his eyes in suspicion, smoke bleeding out from his nostrils.

_How could there possibly be a problem in removing the decor?_

"You know how we were supposed to put the prizes and junk in a big box to be stored away?" The worker asked, growing increasingly nervous.

"Yyyess?" Peter answered, still unable to understand how an issue could arise from this.

"I couldn't find the Marionette doll. The puppet? None of us could. It wasn't in its normal gift box, and I checked every inch of the building. I think maybe someone took it when we weren't here." The man came out with it. His stress lowered when figuring that Peter wouldn't become upset over a feeble puppet.

His mind changed when seeing Peter's pupils shrink as he crushed the burning cigarette in his hand without reaction to the heat.


	87. How long?

The eerie tension in the dark building along with wandering pseudo eyes would've been hell on earth to anyone, but to Peter it was home. No other place felt more comfortable. Even if it was incomplete.

 _Last thing I have left,_ He repeated to himself every night when roaming the small halls and dining area, replaying everything.

 _I haven't been very honest with you, Victor._ He stopped to think.

"I AM going to miss some of this." He confessed to the dark.

The last time he saw Victor alive he was bagging up personal belongings and leaving the job of trashing the obsolete animatronics to the lesser. He was asked if he would miss any of this and he in turn replied that he wouldn't. Not even a little.

_But he did._

He admitted that he did and **was**.

 _Was missing something and letting go the same thing?_ He suddenly wondered.

Fazbear's was on its deathbed, and not soon after this he would have to let go of it all. The name, the company, the restaurant, everything. And he didn't like it. He HATED it.

THIS was what he was feeling.

 _Not if I keep it going,_  A terribly stubborn side in him kicked.

No, he would have Fazbear's running for as long as he could! Even if it meant running just a single building that was greatly smaller than the rest and losing numbers every day.

He walked passed a row of tables. The sprinkled white plastic covers topped with shiny striped party hats mimicked the ones back at the last location when Fazbear's was at its peak in popularity—now a shadow of its former self. The red and blue checkered floor, however, was something he could live without.

 _This place will run as long as I'm here._ He told himself again.

_"How long...do you plan...on keeping this up?"_

He swore he heard this familiar voice coming from the main stage when passing. It triggered a fury within his body, so strong that he turned and hurled his flashlight at the closest animatronic, hitting it square in the face. The victim was Bonnie, and he luckily had no permanent damage from the brutal treatment. Unfortunately, Peter had struck him so hard that the rabbit's balance was disturbed and he tipped over backward. It started off slow, as if the rabbit was fainting from standing for so long, then the crash. Bonnie remained smiling, his purple eyes open and now staring directly at the black ceiling. His guitar bounced a couple inches and slipped out of his grip, toppling to the stage floor right next to the large lavender body. Still, there was no permanent damage, but the noise shook everything that was once silent in the deathly quiet restaurant to the core.

Chica and Freddy rattled in vibration from the fall, but were statues once more, as if behaving themselves to avoid the same treatment. 

"As long as I fucking please." He answered in a deep growl before returning to the shabby office, leaving the fallen character on his back.


	88. Being what you hated

You hid well within the walls of this restaurant, this futile attempt to restore the Fazbear fame. Albiet no tragic events happened specifically in this location (not that the public knew, at least), the place was a worse ghost town than the other locations in the past combined. All air was unbearably thick when the sun set on this building and brought out the lunar light.

At times a membrane of silvery fog would manifest around the building's main portion, smothering the party tables and lingering near the stages holding Fazbear's remaining characters, as if pulled into some haunted forest. Every sound and smell and sense of this place emitted an insufferable black feeling to where the toughest would crumble at the mercy of what wasn't seen but was very much alive and active.

Because of an organic evil, you were now transformed into a killing machine yourself.

You thought you were at your worst when partaking in horrible activities with your fellow inhabitants, but no matter how mad you were or what negative mood was in charge, it wasn't as menacing as when you _weren't_ active. When you were immobile and quiet... this was when you were at your most dangerous. It's because you _weren't_ partaking in the nightly activity and leading your followers. Without a proper guide on how to handle situations, the others here tended to take things to a more grisly level instead of merely chasing out.

Though it shouldn't be assumed you were super tidy in decision making yourself...but you could keep everyone else from going uncontrollably rampant at once.

The aftermath wasn't pretty in the slightest. It never was. The others seemed to "congratulate" each other with different praises before returning to their normal spots, like usual. You, however, had no usual spot. You went with whatever was felt like as long as it kept you hidden. Most of the time nights were spent scanning every inch of the building calmly but only when there was no one else inside. Maybe for a short period during a particular time of the day was there a shred of peace within you and everyone else.

Unfortunately, everyone's welcome, including yours, was long gone whenever the sun had left the sky. This mashed together with the ambition to take out wrath on any person—employee—you could get your hands on when you  **were** in an active mood, but you could never understand _why_. You knew very well of the one man who was behind everything, but there was still a blazing fury with anyone who chose to linger within the walls of your sanctuary, especially if they were part of the Fazbear crew, even if they were more than innocent of any crime.

Against all evidence of being nothing but a pure monster now, you still had harmless intentions during rare times after dark when inspecting inhabitants who weren't any of the characters.

Like a spider descending from its web, you were swift in scaling down from impossible angles and appearing before the lone guard, whether they put up their "defenses" or not.

 _At least things_ started _with harmless intentions..._

The immature curiosity would be vanquished by an emotion that was more _angry_ than intended. Something would just be set off when seeing the terrified person who was taking on the role as Fazbear's security and never meaning harm and certainly not one to intentionally trigger supernatural commotion. 

_Their uniform, their hat.....their face._

You wanted to tear absolutely all of it to shreds...and you did just this. Outside the room the whole scene was watched by a couple others who wished to join in, but were unable to do so due to the room's strange defenses.

Like a monster, you were slaughtering the living, becoming what you once hated.


	89. Cry out

The energy around the Younger being thickened, brightening, growing stronger than it ever had been before. It was serendipitous, like a prayer had been answered. Most of your motor skills were unavailable other than following the young being, but you would've loved to embolden them.

He leapt up and hurled himself forward, running at full speed. 

 _Yes! Go!_  Your mind raved as you tried to keep up.

 _Wait...Why are you stopping?_ You suddenly questioned when they skidded to a halt and knelt down to inspect something that wasn't entirely visible. But you felt something there; solid, indolent, cold—freezing. You kept at a distance, staying close to the dark realm of semi-nothingness that bore only a single, straight path leading ahead. You almost grew impatient. Whatever this was it could wait; there were more important matters at hand. Someone needed to be dealt with. 

He finally stood back up and sprinted, and you weren't far behind. He ran. You flew. 

It was all in fast motion, like video footage gradually speeding up. The strange path lead to a door and they opened it, faster than ever now. They tackled the Older (you always hated him), and you were unable to get any closer than a few feet. You could only watch and wait.

All hopes gradually declined as the Younger was eventually overpowered by the Older. You saw him pinned on his stomach as the larger being had an aggressive hold of his head.

 _No..._ You wanted to scream before—

* * *

 

Vision faded out and back in.

It was your way of "waking up" from a deep sleep. You were still huddled in a tight dark corner of the broken down restaurant that would never have a paying guest again. Ever since your favorite musical tune was lost, you would constantly revisit the same dream over and over whenever the ability to rest was there.

The forever smiling porcelain-like face you wore did not contrast to what the real emotions held. After awakening from this horrid dream— _memory—_ your deep eyes released a substance that only showed up on rare occasions, but would always reveal just how much pain you were suffering on the inside and out. A gooey fog trailed down the sockets. It would always be sticky like a spider's web but vanish after a short period of time when exposed to the air around it.

_How long was this to keep up? How long was this to go on?_

You were clueless as to knowing when the glorious day would come on being able to leave this solid yet discorded dimension once and for all, feeling satisfied, feeling at peace, feeling happiness again...

The mental thoughts were stopped by a sound happening near one of the rooms far from where you were hiding.

It was immensely close to the tools one would hear from a dentist, only difference was that this sound was a much greater version and more intimidating.

The object emitting the sound was indeed a tool, but it was one meant for taking apart larger objects with little effort. It even had the ability to penetrate through metal without trouble, allowing it to perform an optimal job at removing bolts, screws, and pretty much anything else that held its robot victim together.

 _None of this was in order._..

These sounds weren't part of the mundane routine you went through here and they didn't sound pleasant in the slightest. Out of every foreign noise and being to enter this lair belonging to you, _this_ was the one to pull you out of the lethargic state without second thought.

_"Please!"_

You picked up the faint scream and turned abruptly.

They were crying out...one of your precious beloved was crying out to you in agony. You immediately came out of hiding and responded to the begging by flying at immense speed toward the direction where the heart-breaking cries were coming from.

You progressed down a hallway that always seemed like an old friend to your conscience. Everything had been completed by the time you got there, leaving you to stare at withered, shiny piles of what was once pseudo life—the life _you_ gave. 

 Arms, legs, hands, wirings, metal bones, heads... thrown about and completely immobile now.

_So where were the precious souls who inhabited them?_

You looked around, unable to sense or see any of the little ones you constantly protected. A new reason was given to spill the phantom tears when noticing that all of them had gone.

_Gone WHERE though?!_

Like a parent growing frantic over a lost child, your body began to twitch, hands and fingers trembling. Before a place to start searching could be thought of, you suddenly sensed a _powerfully_ dark energy just feet away from the "bone pile", coming inside of the unlit room at the end of the hallway.

 **They** were the one who did this!

 _They destroyed your precious creations!_ You realized. This being was known all too well and the desire to go in for the attack heightened stronger than it had ever been, but the power around him was just still too much to handle on your own. And finding the souls that were now lost and running around somewhere here in the building was much more important than confronting the monster stirring before you right now. You surrendered to this knowledge and fled from the terrible scene. Your worries just may have been reversing when hearing more cries emit from the ones you were desperate to find.

 _"Where are you?"_ You called out and immediately received several ghastly answers. 

It should've been obvious; you turned the corner to see three small figures that faintly illuminated the stage area. For the first time in years their true forms were exposed to the world without the coverage of flesh and bone, whether it be organic or mechanic.

You were fast in gliding over to them. You were the only one who could protect them in these forms now, but before you could inspect and make sure they weren't too shaken up, they quickly charged forward, running passed in a straight line together.

 _Why??_ You greatly wondered as you watched them run back to the spot where they had just lost their mechanical bodies.

 _"No!"_ You called out in great protest. Last thing wanted was for them to be around the man who was the reason for literally everything that kept you all in this hell hole. You high-tailed after them, turning sharply and booking it down the hallway where the metal mess lay in shambles.

" _Don't, please! I can put you back together,_ " You continued pleading for the three to come back and away from the danger. You ceased when seeing them at the doorway, barricading the entrance.

" _What are you doing—_ " You started but then felt everything hit.

Looking down at the withering robot pieces, you came into a resentful acceptance. They couldn't be put back together. Not this time. Not now or ever again. No more chances.

You knew this, and so did they. And because of this they were pulling the last bit of their courage in confronting this man once and for all.

 _It was time for him to pay,_  were everyone's thoughts, including yours.

 **Now** you could handle him. Long enough to even out the score—

_Wait, no you couldn't._

Recounting the spirits before you again, it was finally noticed that someone was missing.

_WHERE?!_

You steadily grew frantic again, turning around and looking back. You were torn on staying with these three or leaving them temporarily to find the missing young one.

" _Please...someone help me..._ "

The weak voice of the fourth spirit was in hearing range. Making a decision, you flew back to the decomposing dining area, following the lost one's voice.

 _They need to be here..ALL of them,_ you determined.


	90. No good

_"There you are..."_

You almost rejoiced when finding the lost little girl who was near the torn up security office. She turned around and looked completely relieved. She instantly pattered over and grabbed your stringy hand for comfort. It was surprising how she was able to physically hold onto you without her "flesh", but you were just glad to have found the remaining child. 

For some peculiar reason this one specific child was the most attached to you out of the whole group. However, this wasn't minded and it felt rather good to be wanted in a friendly way. Even after death there was a nurturing instinct inside that tried physically wiping away the tears that constantly fell from her face. Unfortunately it did no good. The phantom flow behaved like a permanent brand, tattooed on her face. Despite this she seemed to be thankful for your kindness. 

Leading her out the dampened room, you carefully walked—levitated, actually—with and guided her through the rotting building.

This lone remaining restaurant was the definition of a ghost town, but far worse. The heavy storm rolling through was just another typical add-on to the depression. The little pests there were (mostly rodents) had no fear of you and the same could be said for them, but they respected your presence and moved out the path whenever you drew too near.

Thunder rolled firmly over the building's weak rooftop. It was astonishing how it hadn't collapsed yet, but it was getting damn near close. More and more cracks were appearing on every corner of the walls. It brought in enough rainwater to where the pathetic building's second dominating scent (other than ancient pizza) was mildew. It definitely wouldn't be too long now before the place completely sundered to the weathering. 

No matter how many people died at the hands of the so-called "happy characters", there was always one single person who was just a bit too intimidating for either one of them to fully approach. Even all together.

But things would be changing now. That man had performed the final terrible action to the lot of you. Safety be damned, you all only had one last chance to confront this person, and by God, you were taking it. No matter what the consequences be.

Because this was your last chance.

You passed several dirty tables and made it to the hallway. Turning the corner, you were given another view of the bolts and parts mess that lay all over the end of the hall. The girl who held your hand got even closer to you, terrified by the mechanical massacre. You passed it all, keeping a strong grip of the child's hand. You now saw the others who were still formed in their straight line. They managed to keep the man from leaving this one room.

You let go of the girl's hand and approached the other spirits, determined on getting an up-close and personal view of this infamous being for the first time in forever. He was backed up against a few arcade machines. They looked entirely deceased and only good for giant paperweights. All the screens were black and one was even shattered.  

He seemed terrorized at first, but then became aggressive and attempted to banish the spirit children blocking his exit. Next to him was a bag filled with unknown belongings he had been messing with before noticing the lot creeping up on him.

"Get...the fuck... _ **BACK**_!" He commanded in a violent rasp and lunged forward threateningly, holding a large tool in one hand and waving it around like a weapon. 

A couple of the children actually moved backwards by a step or two, feeling overwhelmed by merely just his voice. Their courage was saved when you finally pushed yourself passed them and entered the room, feet away from him. You were almost hypnotized by his appearance.

You knew you had a life before this. You didn't remember much of it, however. But you knew it involved this Man. You couldn't remember his name or any specific detail of what he's done while you were still amongst the living, but you knew it was greatly terrible. As for the children with you...well, you put them before yourself. You knew he was the reason for them being dead. You were confronting him  **for** them.

Your head tilted, giving off a curious impression. 

This man has aged quite a bit. But at the same time...didn't. His hair was still long in the same old style it had always been in, and the rest of his features were similar to his youth he had years ago. They were dark, they were secretive, they were uncanny. The only way you could tell that he was physically aging was by the facial fuzz present on his face along with his eyes screaming out their age and exhaustion. Dark circles bruised under the lids, yet the eyes themselves still remained perfect with no redness or veins. His voice had gotten a little scratchier over the years, but still sounded so familiar...like a grisly reminder. The only thing on him that didn't trigger a strong memory was the large scar on his neck. It looked like a thick crack, ready to shatter into his throat.

You saw him gulp hard when revealing your presence. His eyes quivered in their sockets, scanning you like he couldn't believe he was even  _looking_ at you. He breathed silent for a moment and struggled to speak again, but eventually did.

" **[First Name]**..." He said.

_Why did he say this name?_

You didn't recognize it.

"So...You're still a slave to that thing you call a body? A LIFE?" He said and added a morbid chuckle. It sounded raw and awful. 

"You think you can save these guys? **You can't**. You're too late, **[First Name]**. ALL of you are! You only wasted time with your failed attempts to stalk and stop me. And you still remain here today wallowing in the filth of Fazbear's...thinking it will do you some kind of good. It won't. The best thing you can do for yourselves is to just leave!" He viciously went on, his voice hoarse and grim.

These kids were young, but they seemed to understand what he meant. They huddled close together now. It seems as if they were regretting trapping this man. You stood your ground, however. He looked directly at you again, his eyes trembling with possible ire.

Or was it fear?

For some reason he was mostly affected by  _your_ presence and not the others.

"And YOU," he started again.

"You had failed me! Failed me miserably... You should've left the second you hit the ground. You were useless then and you're useless now! There's nothing you can do for these pathetic crying ghosts." All of this was said with a demented smile on his face. It caused your plastic one to twitch before his eyes.

_Being confronted by his own chaos. His SINS. And he still refused to yield..to own up..to admit that what he did was deplorable and wrong..._

There wasn't an ounce of remorse. He played around this confrontation and only ridiculed. 

What was usually inanimate plastic on your face became a living mold. The white portion seemed to be melting with the falling corners of the smile until it gradually altered into a frown. The eyes sharpened and sounded like crackling bones and embers until everything creased in transformation to where you now bore a furious quivering expression with tiny blue orbs residing in the eye sockets.

For the very first time you struck powerful fear into the man who always seemed like an immovable object. His dark eyes broadened and looked almost cheated, a terror growing, and you found you liked seeing him this way; it was new and satisfying. Well-deserved.

He dropped the tool and ditched the bag he was standing near and tore to the end of the room where a yellow heap sat. You followed only halfway until losing yourself in confusion.

And he sensed this.

"You don't mess with these things, DO you? You think they're part of your posse..." He muttered before hauling the yellow rabbit up and roughly entering through its back. The entire act was uncanny to you, perplexing, and within a number of seconds the Man in purple was gone, swallowed up by the yellow. Only thing staring back was an animatronic.

Then laughter ensued. Laughter from the rabbit.

"You were all stupid in life and now you're stupid in d—" The rabbit's voice was cut off. Quite literally.

A sound you somewhat recognized protruded from the yellow character.

**_C-R-U-N-C-H!_ **

Then came the wet groans as copious amounts of red fluid leaked out of every corner available on the rabbit in thick drips. It stayed stationary for maybe a minute or two before falling to its knees in a heavy _thud_ , sliding back on the dirty wall as if to relax.

When it finally stopped rattling and trembling you glided forward and scanned the egregious aftermath. And that's when you understood...

The Man had tried using the character to _hide_ in. It had worked, but at a dire cost. You stared at what was left of him. You could feel the heat leaving his body, becoming that cold blue, leaving every piece lifeless. Every fragment of him that would've been considered a sensitive area to inflict pain upon had been impaled right through by the rabbit's merciless innards. It now looked like a Bonnie drizzled all over with red paint.

And the Man in Purple was no more. He was now one with the rabbit and marinating in his own artery fluids.

He's gone. He had suffered; just like you wanted.

But why did it feel like things were still incomplete? Why did it feel like it did no good for you?


	91. The negative

"We don't need any funding, it's not like we're going on some trip to another fucking foreign country. You're acting like we'll have some crazy risk of not coming back alive. Relax, dude! We're just raiding an old building for possible items from the past that can be used in this wicked theme park. The more we can find the better." The young man made another repetition of explanation to his partner. 

He subsided his light frustration with the set back of his friend's second thoughts by taking several more photos and pinning them in the light so their chemicals could properly separate. In the beginning he thought he was wasting time on developing this vintage camera's photos. The thing was decades old. He'd find it when frisking a small dirty bag he came across upon returning to one of the original Freddy's Pizzeria buildings that lay deteriorating in its own grave.  

Unfortunately, the last restaurant with business was destroyed. There was only one left standing, but barely. The place didn't have any ownership for someone to keep late night visitors from exploring. It was entirely desolate. Fred, the CEO of the entertainment, had packed up what he could and left town. Sure it was strange but it wasn't questioned. What else was there left for a failed owner?

To the town it was just another business rising and falling; a humdrum cycle of the business world. What made this peculiar one unique from others was that it **had** the potential to last much longer and could possibly still be standing to this current day. However, the company hit a solid brick wall unable to be busted down. The disappearance and death of so many children played a huge part in this if not the only.

For several years the last of the pizzeria buildings stood alone with no trespassers. It was seen as too eerie or spooky to people, not to mention old rumors about the character animatronics coming to life were still going around like the flu.

However, as the years passed and the younger and bolder generation grew, teenagers would be dared by peers to go inside the place. For a few months this task was actually impossible with the doors being locked shut, and no one wanted to bust a window, possibly out of odd, reverent sentiments. Eventually a day sprouted where the building's locks were mysteriously gone without explanation, leaving the place clear for anyone who wished to enter. The youth at the time were suddenly fast in changing their minds on exploring, and the building remained an unexplored tomb.

A number of years passed and the next generation were even _more_ courageous than the last. This was when the pizzeria would start getting its first set of explorers. It was never anything big; a group no smaller than three would last only several minutes before pulling back. 

And then a resilient bunch made themselves the most recent guests. Armed with flashlights, a camera, and perhaps a weapon or two, their minor fears turned to fascination and excitement. It wasn't nostalgic for them since Fazbear's was just an ancient relic with passed down stories, but nevertheless it was like walking into a dark, warped past. The once vibrant wallpaper was now a background of rotted, faded shades with smudges of age and weathering.

"Good lord this place still has a pizza smell." A boy in the front stated in disgust.

"Not hard to believe with how much preservatives that shit has. Hell, who's not to say there's old pizza in the kitchen that's still edible??" Another boy joked, making just about everyone's noses wrinkle sickly.

"I mean, it's gotta be no different than when you leave a box of pizza out and then dig into it the next day. Still tastes good. Even better with age! Like wine! Anyone? _Anyone_??"

"Stick a sock in it." A girl ordered and they continued on with exploring the hallways, flashlights beacons in the musty dark. They were well aware of the old legends with the "evil robots" still roaming the place and a killer being on the loose. Surprisingly (or perhaps not-so surprisingly), they  **did** find what they were sure were the animatronics, or what was left of them.

A certain part of the floor was littered with parts and pieces, and the only way they could be confirmed as the forgotten characters were the heads laying near, misplaced and grotesque. Their sockets were hollow and lightless.   

"Jesus CHRIST..." A guy nearby couldn't keep it from slipping out while his flashlight scanned the pieces.

"Did they all just disintegrate from age?"

"I'm guessing that was a room once upon a time. Otherwise it wouldn't be boarded up like that." Another said, pointing with the shine of his flashlight. In front of the pile was a large wall heavily X'd by thick wooden boards.

"Interesting. Any idea why that would be?" A second girl, who was probably the toughest in the group, asked curiously.

"Who knows. Could be because a part of the wall fell off, or because it's trying to hide something inside."

There were five seconds of chilly silence before the same girl laughed.

"Oh yea, sure! What's it hiding? The dead children??" She joked darkly.

"You know those kids were never found, right? For all we know this  _could_ be the spot where they were hidden." Someone said.

" **Bullshit**. If this was the spot then whoever boarded it up would've seen them and immediately notify the authorities. Besides, wasn't the killer caught?" She attempted to debunk everything.

"Actually no. It turned out the man who was sent to prison for it was innocent."

"Oh really? Do you have any proof supporting this?"

"...No. Honestly...it's a theory that was talked about. And...if you look at the evidence it only adds up."

"WHAT evidence?"

"Guys, come look at this!" Someone else called, turning everyone's surveillance and lights to their direction. With curtains dark and rotting, the main stage was next to have attention. The lights above were burnt out with several bulbs broken, their glassy remnants sprinkled on the stage.

Even the cobs webs decorating the corners were abandoned by the arachnids that created them some time ago. The rhythmic sound of shoes and boots echoed off the decaying walls as the group made their way toward the area that once held the Fazbear band. Nothing was said for over a minute, but they all had a conjoined, soulful compassion when examining what was perhaps the town's most popular attraction ages ago. 

It almost became awkward; despite not personally knowing Freddy Fazbear's characters, they all felt a weird vertigo in their minds, like a forgotten passion—they wished to see this place back when it had life, a purpose, the characters on stage, bathed under the party lights and jubilantly performing for the guests as they sat in the furbished, sparkling party tables. They wanted to know the **real** stories and see everything for themselves; this included the morbid curiosity and desire to learn what truly happened to these missing children. Was it all carried out by a random citizen or had it been someone under Fazbear's name this whole time, just as the rumors claimed? 

Everyone was lost in the unearthly gaze until one of the guys finally looked away and broke the awkward silence.

"Welp, it's obviously empty. So the pile of metal bones over there _are_ the characters. The only question is  **why** were they taken off and dismantled like that?"

"Doesn't really matter. The reason is probably irrelevant. But if I had to guess it's most likely because it was easier to help clear things out." Tough girl answered.

He responded by shining his light all around the squalid dining area, hitting tables and chairs with the beam, as if looking for something important. 

"Totally; they did a TOTALLY good job clearing things out." He said. 

While scanning the shredded dining area his light hit another pair of curtains that still had a bit of their natural pattern left.

Star pattern.

"Huh... I'm guessing this was the fox's stage. I've been told that he had one to himself. Pirate bay I think it was called? No, COVE! Pirate Cove." He broke off from the group while thinking out loud. A couple other teens lost interest in the main stage and had followed him. The curtains were mostly closed with only a slit of space visible.

"How the hell are you going to name something 'Pirate Cove' when it doesn't even look like a damn cove? If anything it looks like one of those dance stages that the whores walk out of." Another guy blurted out, causing the others to snicker.

"So anyone wanna open this?"

"Don't be such a fucking pussy!" Someone else said as they fearlessly grabbed one of the fading curtains and pulled it back.

There was nothing to greet them. Only another empty stage.

"Satisfied?" He asked. He released the curtain and a damp, dark residue came off on his hand.

"Fuck! Gross!" He yelled while trying to shake it off

The tougher girl from earlier seemed to be controlling every situation and was first to declare her boredom.

"Alright. We came, we saw, we now get the hell out. Everyone happy now? There's no damn ghosts running around and certainly no evil animatronics hiding in here. Those stupid legends can be put to rest now." 

Without waiting for any responses she began her march back to the entrance. Everyone else hesitated, but didn't try convincing her to stay and followed her lead.

"You get all that on camera?" Someone asked.

"Yeah! We're the first to explore the heart of this place and got everything to prove it. We're making history!" Another answered.

"You're not making shit." The girl said.

"Quit being a bitch."

"Y'know, I heard one legend about a teen who was kidnapped like twenty years ago or so. Apparently they were held hostage here and forced to be a performing monkey, wearing suits and shit. No one knows what happened to them. Some think they were just killed eventually after trying to escape."

"What if they were kept in that boarded room the whole time?"

"Would you guys shut up with that already? Those rumors are bullshit and lame . . ."

The gossip of theories and legends spilled out into the unkept parking lot as the team descended outside. 

So that was all.

There really were no haunting spirits or robots moving on their own. All the explorers were convinced, except one; who was the last to leave, lingering behind his friends the whole time. He didn't see anything but he _swore_ he heard an extremely faint tune of a music box, but that was it. It may have all been in his head, but he distinctly remembered a tune that would stay with him for a long time.

Every now and then his mind would replay it. It didn't frighten him or make him slowly go paranoid or feel a premonition, but it certainly intrigued him. And ever since he visited the broken down pizzeria several years back, he became more and more obsessed with its backstory and history.

"Imagine that place being a haunted house for a fright fest. I bet it'd be perfect!" A friend of his would say one day when discussing the restaurant. That's when a tremendous idea charmed in his brain:

_A scary fright place!_

It was remarkable. 

By this time a lot of scavengers had ransacked most of the restaurant, swiping utensils and other items from all rooms, but there were a few spots that still had an abundance of treasures. A few pieces of the animatronics were left, but not an appropriate amount. He found himself sinking more of his time and patience into locating anything that had to do with Fazbear's. He came across a few fakes that people tried passing off as genuine, but he also came across legitimate props. 

The best things he had so far were old arcade machines and even surviving drawings that once decorated the walls. Last time he returned to the desolate pizzeria he managed to find a camera locked away in a rusted safe. And he extracted the film.

"No shit, Vincent. I KNOW the task is simple, however that place could collapse at any moment. There's a  **reason** why demolition is scheduled to happen next week. It's not safe. I don't want to go busting through a wall to have it bury me alive." His friend kept pulling back from the idea.

"Max, this is my last chance to find anything, bro. The theme park is opening up soon and I really want to find a few last things to add. That boarded up room in the very back still has yet to be broken through. I _guarantee_ there's something in there worth taking! Please, you've always had my back and supported me with this whole thing..." Vincent implored. His pal kept a small frown but looked conflicted.

"I'll think about it. Let's just focus on finishing this." He hung up another photo.

"Most of these are just normal birthday pictures; parents, grandparents, siblings," Max named off before taking an extra hard look at one of the pictures he was tending to.

"Birthday girl who looks ugly as fuck." He said, the last word slurring into a laugh.

There was a minute of silence when Vincent let out a gasp, followed by a "Holy shit!", making his friend jump in fear.

"Look at this one, man!" He nearly shoved the developed photo in Max's eyes.

"Dude..." He whispered.

"Is that an animatronic??"

"Yea. But it's not one of Freddy's. If I'm right that thing is from Doug and Rachel's. That knock-off went down before Fazbear's." Vincent answered.

The photo showed a raccoon animatronic. Its jaws were agape, its eyes glowing a frightening orangish white color, and worst of all, there was red fluid on its teeth.

"I seriously hope that shit was all a set up to scare someone at the time..." Max almost quivered.

"Maybe it was. Otherwise why would someone have taken a picture of it?" 

"That's true. I guess it was for something that had to do with Halloween." Max added on.

"Makes sense." Vincent continued with his half of the photos. He focused on another, his nerves tensed once more. The next one was almost the same, except the raccoon's head was a bit lower, the eyes dimmer.

The next one showed its head even lower, eyes almost unlit. Vincent said nothing. He waited until the rest of his photos were finished before looking at them.

All of them were of the raccoon. His head was low with no lights in his eyes, as if he had been turned off.

 _Why would the person take so many pictures of the same image?_ He greatly wondered. He inspected the lot of them but none were different from each other.

Except the very last one.

It was still negative despite there being plenty of time for the proper colors to develop. It was of the raccoon, of course. Still, none of the details were different, only that it was negative and wouldn't convert.


	92. Hopeful searches

It was eccentric. He had been stuck, quiescent, in one spot for so long, practically asleep. Or in some void of darkness.

It's all he saw whenever he'd open his eyes for a brief time, always expecting the surroundings of nothingness to be different. He was hoping.

Hope was a feeling that was very complicated whenever it dripped into his mind. His version of hope had always been distorted—anything but innocent and positive. He trained his whole life in making sure things went according to his plans, which were never anything remotely good. So many lives could vouch for this.

But this was possibly the very first time in desiring for something harmless; just anything to get out of this void of shadow that gave him no comfort, and the only things he could see were of what he'd imagine for his sanity.

_And then everything had changed in a matter of only seconds._

It wasn't a slow course introduction of change by any means; It was just the void for an unknown but agonizing length of time, and then abruptly _this—_ aloud crash and an explosion of light.

And then the voices . . . 

* * *

 

"Holy God... Dude, you were completely fucking right! Come look at this shit! It's like a gold mine!" A young man was ecstatic that his hard work had paid off.

The atmosphere entombed behind these boards for the past several decades finally splurted out, carrying a nimbus of sawdust, mustiness, and fragrances. The room was thick with the odor of oil and rot. He had to pull his shirt over his nose, his lungs almost stinging. 

Before him was a room with a decent number of vintage, classic arcade machines, a few bags of mysterious contents—later revealed to be audio training tapes and employee handbooks—and . . .

He shone his bright flashlight elsewhere, scanning the walls. He almost dropped the tool, but instead dropped several F-bombs. His eyes fell onto the large heap slumped against the wall. 

_It was an animatronic! In the flesh!_

"Duuude..." Was all he could slip out. He looked like the first man to discover King Tut's grave. He had stumbled onto the mother of Fazbear history; an actual animatronic that was still in one whole piece.

The fact the robot was in horrid condition mattered not to him or his partner. He carefully stepped in, and went straight for the yellow rabbit. The other guy only followed him halfway, but helped out enough by shining his own light on the thing.

The rabbit looked absolutely abhorrent; great tears everywhere with wires sticking out of exposed areas, like tendons.

He tapped his finger on its chest area.

It was rock-hard. The weathering fabric had molded from rainwater and other fluids over the years and eventually succumbed to just mummifying itself into a mutated material.

"Don't think I'll be able to look inside this thing. It's cemented itself together from all the aging." He said with mild disappointment, but it was easily forgotten after his thrill of this discovery came back. 

"I'm sure we still can." His partner said.

"Just need a few tools—"

"NO! With the way things are now the material could disintegrate on us. I don't want to risk destroying it." He immediately refused.

"We have plenty of spare character heads. If the endoskeleton is like all the others, we can easily fit one on if it comes down to it. Just a small rebuild." 

"That's not the problem I have with it. My problem is I don't want any of this to get ruined. I want to keep this thing whole as is. What's the point of having a genuine animatronic that's been untouched if a part of its body has been tampered with? We're not going to mess with this thing. I just want to get it out of here and into our building." He ordered, dismissing any possible plans of taking the rabbit apart. 

"Uhh...right!... But damn, that things looks waaay beyond creepy. Just look how the mouth rotted off and exposed the teeth... it's like something was chewing at it."

"That actually works to our benefit. The attraction is a fright fest after all. Only thing better than having a genuine animatronic from the past is having one that's basically zombified." 

"Hmm. True enough. Alright, I'll go get the others so we can lift this thing out of here. Just hope there aren't any rats or shit in that thing..." His partner finally agreed and went to fetch extra help, while he prodding his finger on several different areas of the rabbit. It was clearly deteriorating, but still in working condition.

Absolutely perfect.

* * *

 

Sounds that hadn't greeted drawings and various gadgets and belongings of the old Fazbear restaurants in so many years were now echoing from wall to wall, like the dirge of a requiem bell. He stomped every other second, storming from one end of a room to another, stiff in his movements and twisted in grace. This loose monstrosity was roaming the miserable excuse of a scary theme park, searching. Glowing blue eyes belonging to the resurrected creature illuminated in the darkest corners. 

He knew exactly where he was, yet at the same time didn't. All details and decor of these rooms drove him into a maddening confusion. Joints of the animatronic whirred and spat, screeching with the faintest of movements. The place surely _looked_ like the pizzeria he was so well accustomed to; Fazbear's image was written everywhere, but it just wasn't... **right**. Heads of several characters were scattered throughout the rooms and hallways like litter. 

 _This wasn't correct,_ He'd eventually think with a distorted mind. The grimy-looking arcade machines with pictures pinned up around every corner were sending him into exasperation. Lights blinked from places that weren't supposed to have lights, such as the skulls of several character heads.

Characters weren't supposed to look like this; not like lampshades and wall decor.

If anything infuriated him more than seeing his animatronics in undignified pieces, it was not being able to find the one thing he wanted most of all that belonged in the Fazbear restaurant—his collection. A character he was searching for.

_Where was Puppet?_


	93. Not as remembered

The banners were there, as were streamers and drawings and paper plate molds of Fazbear characters. Hell, even the arcade machines were placed in corners and ready for usage, though their buzzing screens said otherwise; one in the middle was horribly cracked, though ironically it was possibly the only one that actually worked. Its low music and theme buzzed dryly in the stressful air, pixels failing to form a proper picture behind fissures on its face. There was a white indent where the damage was at its worst, right in the very middle, almost like a bull's-eye.  

So why did this all seem so different now?

The interior was most certainly not like what it once was. Even when the last building was drenched of rain rot and pests, it wasn't as grim as these new surroundings. It wasn't like what you remembered. At all. And to make things worse, you sensed that _He_ was back.

 _Can't be,_  you were in denial at first, but when feeling the heavy, overwhelming energy accompanied by a painful aura, old fears resurfaced.

But this wasn't even the worst of it.

The precious souls you resided with had scattered a second time, and it wouldn't be so easy finding them again. _They were in a different realm._ A new purgatory that was inaccessible without specific help. And you learned that this special aid could only come from the ones who were usually seen as targets.

The living...


	94. The cutting of strings

You had been separated from them. For years, ages. 

It was the worst feeling in the world. You'd die a thousand times over than to feel this now, to be all alone—you could handle the coldness of being alone, it wasn't your main concern. Your concern was for Them; _they_ couldn't handle being alone. They didn't even have each other for comfort. They were scattered in various voids, just like the remnants of Fazbear's were scattered everywhere in this strange place, this realm. And you had no control. Everyone, all of you, were at the mercy of this deplorable purgatory this place had molded for these poor, wandering souls. 

And to top everything, He was back, and running loose. 

_All of your hard work after so many years was crumbling..._

But there HAD to be another way...there just HAD to be!

 _There was_ , and you were discovering it...

The uniformed Man was trembling before you. He had always been a skeptic in his life, one amongst many to laugh at legends and spook stories. He held no regret or fear when taking on the job as this Fright Fest's security guard. He barely knew Fazbear's history, not counting the obvious murder stories, and thought it was equal parts enthralling and farcical that someone was going this far as to create a scary theme park dedicated to past legends and incidents.  

The first night had been all about sitting on his bored ass, like every other night guard who's been encountered, only difference being that you didn't feel the impulse to end his life. For once you discovered the importance of The Living; one was all that was needed, the key to transcend. You were too much of a proxy to vengeance and dark violence due to a certain being's influence and energy, blackening your mind and omitting the ability to be sensible.  

Now things were different; you were knowledgeable. Someone with living flesh could aid your search in not only Them, but your former self. Losing memory of who you were kept you from moving on. It was easy to fix this now; just find the mind of a living person, a normal person. To help pull you out this monstrous state. 

 

The frightened guard looked as if he was going to blow his brains out with his pistol he carried, all to escape from what was closing in around him.

_If a heart attack didn't get him first..._

He was aware of the rotten statue rummaging around in the eerie building. He assumed in the beginning that it was all just some prank of the sort by management, until the putrid rabbit began opening its jaws in front of a security camera. The calcified crust gluing the jaws shut cracked and crumbled fairly easy in a queasy way. When free the rabbit parted the prison of teeth with broken fingers, far enough to reveal what was entombed; 

Mummified skull, covered in a leathery coating and no longer looked human. The eye sockets were still invaded by the large, inanimate, glassy eyes that had impaled the organic ones a lifetime ago, when the suit's locks failed on that stormy night. Metallic gleams of the ancient spring locks still glimmered inside of the skull's gaping mouth, penetrating all the way to the top of the head. There were a trickle of teeth left standing tall on the lower jaw, worn down and deteriorated from age. Once upon a time they may have looked perfect. 

Why the thing did this grotesque trick was unknown, but perhaps it was trying to send a message:

**_I'm here. Going to kill you..._**

The guard was more clever than the average. He'd go for his firearm but then stop. It was hard realization but he knew well that a bullet wouldn't stop this creature of the necrosis. He could, however, trick the robot monster into following a recording he'd mechanically trigger, emitting a childish laughter over a speaker in a desired room. And the rabbit fell for it numerous times. 

Now he was on the fence about turning the firearm around, to save himself from going through a world of hell if the walking dead got to him. Leaving was impossible, the rabbit was too close to the exits; even the emergency. He'd already seen the thing run—like a Goddamn person. It was evident the rabbit would literally chase after him, and who's to say it wouldn't stop even if it did manage to make it outside? 

This is when he saw _you_ , a moving puppet, along with two dark shadows that looked like the Fazbear characters all over again.

The weapon came close to his cranium...

 _"No..."_ You had said, holding out a stringy hand. Out of some miracle he was able to understand, despite no one else ever being able to. He was just as shocked in hearing you speak as you were. He lowered his arm and you saw your chance.

_"I'll help if you help me. I can keep you safe."_

The closer you reached his mind the better your communications skills formed. They were returning.

He looked understandably hesitant, but when realizing you weren't a true hazard, he relaxed, allowing you to approach. 

 _What else was there to lose,_  he might've been thinking.

When warm feelings of physical thoughts drizzled onto your cold dead mind, the mental blocks that constantly manipulated you ever since existing like this disappeared, and a person was now seen in your head; one who looked more and more familiar as he came into clear vision.


	95. Reform

Dimensions would be something the human mind could never perceive fully, but the dead were somehow able to, to a certain extent. A large tier of birthday cake was inexplainable, nor did you understand its purpose, but it was apparently critical in persuading the lost spirits to feel comfort and gain the strength to follow you back, and you weren't alone in searching for them.  

The two shadow characters had aided in finding the majority of the kids, and you were with the remaining one.

" **[First Name]**!" She had said in excitement. She wasn't just a little girl; she was  _someone_ to you. You remembered her name and she remembered yours, and had used it.

Upon hearing it a new sensation engulfed your body and you began to feel—

_itchy._

This was foreign. You had no organic flesh to speak of, but your current "skin" was crawling around itself, causing you to scratch madly like an animal with fleas.

 _"Stay human..."_ A strange voice trailed next to you, sounding vaguely familiar, but you couldn't exactly remember who said it and why it randomly manifested. 

_Stay human..._

**C'mon, it's time to party!**

The toy Chica was behind you. 

There were the toy animatronics here that did you so well back when living in your original "home". But they sounded intelligent beyond a man-made script wired into a voice module. They had pitch, expressions in their tone, not dull and mechanical. Chica was smiling, her plastic body robed in light, glimmering in perfection. She looked beautiful, like a real living sentient. 

**They're all waiting for you! Your brother will bring the cake.**

Her voice was soft and attractive. The girl picked herself up and ran to hug the toy character that seemed so real, but only in this dimension.

"Hurry up, **[First Name]**!" She used your name again and ran off to the unknown.

Before you could follow, another wave of terrible itching assailed to an unbearable level. You reached behind your back to scratch the worst part and felt a strange seam going along your spine. Upon the moment of discovering the foreign patch, it was discovered that you had grown taller by several feet until you were further from the floor than ever before.

It ceased to end there; your entire body felt confined behind the black material that was supposed to be your anatomy—It was like you were wearing a body suit. Instincts told you to pull at the seam and the more it tore open the more your innards transformed. There was another layer of coverage, but it wasn't as enclosed as what you were literally peeling off and throwing onto the ground.

When you brushed your head you felt fuzziness. 

Hair.

Then a film of plastic covering your face, though you were able to remove it.

The mask hung from your neck and you stared at both your hands; your _real_ hands, your real body. It had returned. You wanted to surrender to a cold faint when paroxysm filled your restored body. However, without a beating heart to become overburdened by an excited pulse, you remained staring at yourself in awe.

Looking back at the spot where you had thrown the heap of skin "shed" minutes ago, the old lifeless Prize Corner puppet was the only thing greeting back.

 _Marionette_.

You remembered its name. It was on its back with its legs bent and pretzel'd. Its face sported the signature happy smile that many thought was creepy.

But it was happy. For the first time its smiling face actually meant something. And it was felt.

_"Stay human..."_


	96. A shared birthday

You tugged at your lengthy hair, combing it with your fingers, until the bangs were tucked well behind the mask. You were wanting to make sure everything was even and neat.

Securing the remaining fly-aways, you wriggled all ten fingers like they had just woken up from a cryogenic sleep. You tried cracking your knuckles even, but no such sound or sensation came. However, you _did_ feel a warmth flow through them, like blood. They were warm and awake and—

 _real_.

Everything was real. **You** were real.

You tended to a runaway bang, making sure it stayed behind the mask. You hated to keep this thing on your face, but it wouldn't be staying there for much longer. You could wait just a little more.

_It would only be just a little longer._

When deciding you were acceptably decent and ready, you picked up the large stacked pastry Chica had left behind—it was light as a feather—and opened the plain door you had been standing in front of the whole time. 

You lead yourself down a large hallway without fear.

It held a row of party tables which in turn had their own groups of children wearing various animal masks. The entire area looked like one long party room, though each group minded their own space.

Decor and minor details gave off a nostalgic vibe as if you were revisiting an old house. A small instinct told you to expect the children's attention to fall on your presence. Like a knee-jerk reaction, you rose a hand and waved, anticipating on them to grow excited and receive gifts and birthday presents that might come from you.

None looked up from their chatter, they continued shoveling cake into their mouths. They squeaked about how they looked in their masks and what they planned to expect in their gift boxes. They were spoiled, _that_ was a given, but they didn't seem like brats. They were enjoying their piles of sweets and soda, though they had to lift their masks every time just to take a bite or sip. 

You slowly put your hand down (with a hint of embarrassment) and positioned it back under the large cake, and moved right in front of a girl's view. No way she could  **not** see you this time...But she only kept laughing with the birthday group and took off her mask to show her teeth, dyed by the cake's strong icing. The others with her laughed. 

_Onto the next table of silly tykes..._

A few of the kids _here_ had coloring pages and were drawing up some Fazbear characters, one of them taking his careful time on drawing Marionette.

Little by little, more impressive details appeared; Marionette was now holding out a blue colored-birthday present to a small kid with a huge Pac-Man smile. The last things he added were a few uneven lines to resemble strings on the puppet.

"Hey, buddy..." You tried calling out.

Not even a glance.

He put down his crayons and showed his work to his friends with pride.

"I did good, didn't I? It looks so real!" He praised himself and took every compliment he could get.

"Yeah, bud. You did good. You're a natural." You gave him a verbal gold star despite knowing he wouldn't hear it.

"NONE of you can hear me, can you?" You asked in normal pitch, waiting for a small head to peer up.

"And none of you can see me either..."

Acceptance slowly came.

You looked down at your arms and feet, noticing just how different you still were compared to them. Your physical shape did not give off the same light that reflected off the naked eye, telling a person what color it was, whereas the kids did and were vibrant as could be.

You were "dull".

 _So you weren't ALIVE._ That was it. You weren't among these children, even though you could reach out and touch them, if desired. You just weren't **there**. You no longer had your own flesh to surround and shield your spirit, allowing you to interact with the dimension that everyone and everything alive co-existed in.

Whether this room be part of the present world or just some void of old memory, your spirit had no full access to it.

 _But you_ did _have a spirit; YOUR spirit_.

This was enough to stay positive. You had your spirit back and were completely free of anything that still might be tethered to you. 

"Enjoy, kids. Have a good life. And be safe..." You whispered one last thing to the happy children before sighing and walking further down the room.

You passed by several more tables and felt a little confused when not seeing the one you were looking for right away, not until you saw just how abnormally far the room stretched. At the very end, far away from the rest of the tables, was yours. There were a handful of kids around it, holding their own animal masks. They all looked content except for one particular kid on the opposite side of the table. She was still crying, which puzzled you, until recognizing who it was.

 _Cady._..

She had been by herself for so damn long...she didn't even have an alternate body to connect and communicate with others. She had the ability to leave whenever she wanted, but after experiencing everything...all she went through...she no longer had the courage and strength to move on. Not by herself. She couldn't do it alone, so she clung onto to you and the others, even though she was barely noticed.

The guilt made you want to crumble on the spot.

Your pace slowed when approaching and you finally set the cake down on the table, and slid the mask off for a final time. Your delivery seemed to be a trigger for everyone. They started moving and became hyped over your presence. Cady lifted her head, and you saw how she and the rest of the group were dull in physical appearance just like you, but this didn't affect their excitement. Despite being alone for so long, and it being all YOUR fault, her face lit up, and she shouted your name in utter happiness.

There was no spite or grudges. Her willingness to forgive was so moving to where you almost erupted into tears. The tiny crowd ran to hug you. The feeling of a warm embrace after so many dark years...it was definitely something someone would take for granted. It was the last thing to prove that you were back and were more alive than you could ever be. You didn't even know half these kids, but they were just as thrilled and were sharing the love.

The tears came—streams of warmth fell from your eyes due to being so overwhelmed. The kid to hug you the longest was the one to call you out. 

" **[First Name]** , you're not supposed to cry at birthday parties! You're supposed to have fun and eat cake!" Your sister teased.

The other kids around her giggled.

"Alright then, dork. Well I brought the cake, so cut me a break." You teased back.

"Hey! Cake and break! Those two words rhyme!" A boy in the group declared and the other kids repeated the words in confirmation. Your lips quirked at the silliness in how they found amusement in the smallest things.

"So who's birthday is it?" You asked, having no clue who the giant layered cake was dedicated to.

The kids were silent as they looked around.

_Well that was incredible._

You brought a birthday cake this far and even  _you_ had no idea who it was going to! It was almost unbelievable.

"It's everyone's!" Another boy said and the rest agreed and clapped. It was interesting since you imagined that kids would never be okay with this. But here they were, working together on how they could portion out the pastry so it was all even.

_This definitely wasn't the real world._

You did what you did best and found a bad joke to crack a smile at.

"So yes! **[First Name]** , it's going to be everybody's birthday today!" Kayla repeated.

"So how old does this make us?" Cady asked.

"You're still pretty young-looking, so I'd say not much older. Sorry little one, no drinks for you just yet." You responded. She stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry, restarting your laugh.

"Then how old are YOU?" She asked, turning the attention around. After the question sunk in like barbs, your eyes traveled away from her and you stared at the table introspectively. 

 _It's been so long..._ You didn't  **know** how old you'd be at this point.

_But it shouldn't matter since you still looked the same..._

Only thing keeping you in this light sorrow was that there was a section within wishing you were fully grown. You remembered how angsty you were before chaos started, and that you just wished everything in life could get a move on.

 _Move on with life._ Did **this**  count?

"It doesn't matter. It's not about our age this time, it's about having a happy day. Because that's what we all want." You answered her. In a way it really **was** like a birthday for every one of you. Being born as yourselves again and not...

 _monsters_.

The word almost made you choke up.

"It's settled, guys, it's everyone's birthday!" You finalized the idea and the children cheered, putting their masks on over their faces and celebrating. They picked up the available plastic-ware and dug into the large cake in front of them.

You originally didn't want to, but it was too tempting to pass up. You grabbed your own plastic fork and took several bites. The first thing to eat in years tasted like heaven. One of the boys pulled his mask up high to show everyone his dyed teeth, making Kayla and the others laugh. Even you.

After everyone finished a single slice, they fitted their masks back on and stood up from their chairs.

"Now we can go to the party room, where we get to play and be happy forever!" The same boy who flashed his teeth shouted with delight. The other two boys laughed in exhilaration and left the table, running in a direction that didn't look physically possible to the normal eye, but you saw it, and understood where they were headed.

 _And you wanted to go too_. However, you couldn't just yet.

Technically you _could_ , but you were staying a bit longer for a damned good reason.

There was something that needed to be done first; someone who needed to be confronted so the last word could get in. Not for ingenuity, but because you wanted closure; closure for you, Kayla, Cady, and every other child who became lost in the terrorizing dark because of this monster—The  _real_ monster.

"You two can go on ahead. I'll meet you there soon." You told Cady and Kayla, who stayed behind to grab a few more bites.

"But I wanna stay with you." Your sister was quick to protest, something you should've been seen coming. This also meant Cady would refuse. She was Kayla's best friend, and loved hanging around you as well.

"No. I need to do this on my own." You tried convincing her to forget about tagging along. To be fair, this final task wasn't something you wanted her to see.

" **[First Name]** , nooo! You said we wouldn't be separated again... I don't want to be separated again..."

You stood motionless for a moment, looking at her and then back at the direction where the door that brought you here was.

Kayla and Cady were both owed this. They had every right to confront the evil being just as much as you did. They were younger, but they were just as brave. It may scare them, but it wouldn't hurt them. Nothing could hurt them anymore. The least you could do was help carry out this remaining wish that you were sure they both shared. 

It was like a birthday wish, the last birthday wish they'll ever get—let it come true.

 _Help MAKE it come true,_ your conscience exhorted.

"Okay..." You agreed, and allowed the girls to accompany you all the way back.


	97. Free

(Thanks for reading! I know it was a long and unique story, but I hope each chapter was worth it ^^) Edit: Important note at bottom.

* * *

You almost wished you hadn't allowed the two girls to join you on this one last mission. Looking upon the surroundings with your eyes **this** time, everything was revealed to be completely spooky, all on purpose. You could now understand what it all meant, and it wasn't pleasant. It was actually worse than originally thought; this was some kind of amusement attraction focused on the horrible events to happen to Fazbear's history.  

 

It was sickening. Pieces of various animatronics were set up in corners and on the walls, and some were even made into lamps.

Good Lord, it was no different than gutting someone and decorating the inside of a building with their innards!

 _It's like they're celebrating it,_  you thought.

The two girls stayed close while being careful not to step on any of the ancient animatronic pieces you all had become so attached to, quite literally.

"Is this wreck supposed to be Fazbear's?" Cady asked, her mature nerve strong as always, even after death.

"Not exactly. You remember those old haunted houses you and Kayla used to visit?" You questioned, keeping yourself from saying: "back when you were still alive".

"Yeah. Those places sucked." 

"This is kinda the same thing." You told her, kicking away a loose gift box belonging to a larger pile. It was almost surprising when noticing you were able to make physical contact with the item.

 _Maybe it was just for certain things. Like petty objects._ You guessed.

Lights from old, worn-down arcade machines blinked as you passed them. You stared for an extra long second at one with a shattered screen.

It buzzed, barely kicking with life. A large metallic tool came to mind. 

"Those things still run??" You were astounded.

"The walls are gross!" You heard Kayla gripe when she took notice of the dark stains splattered everywhere. This is when you saw how poor of a job it did at imitating the original wallpaper Fazbear's had.

"I think it's intentional." You said, still curling your lip in disgust at the morbid vibe this place tried so hard to aim for.

"How did we get here again?" Cady asked, feeling bewildered on how the lot of you just seemed to show up out of nowhere.

"Magic." You simply joked, not wanting to go into a real, complicated explanation on how you were able to figure out the different dimensions by now and could control where you went since there was no "anchor" to keep you in only one place. Even with how mature she was, she wouldn't have been able to understand it. Even **you**  still had trouble comprehending how it all worked.

If the three of you had flesh and breathing lungs, you'd realize just how thick the air was and that breathing was almost complicated. It would baffle you with how someone could use this kind of place as an attraction for the public.

_It was DANGEROUS!_

Speaking of danger...you were close to where the office was. Acrid smoke was starting to spill and billow out from the tiny room. 

"Good...he held down his end of the bargain..." You said quietly when seeing that the night guard did everything you asked for him to do. It was one crucial event you remembered happening before getting your old mind and form back.

 _"_ _Set the place aflame!"_

"Who did WHAT now?" Cady heard you.

"Nothing. We need to speed this up. We don't have a lot of time now..." You responded and curved around another hallway.

"Look!" Kayla squeaked, pointing out a large shadow in the shape of Freddy standing near an unlit corner.

The two girls huddled together behind you.

"I think...I think it's okay." You told them while inspecting the shadow.

 _You knew who it was._ And if you didn't, you were about to.

The shadow morphed and molded to where it was no longer in the figure of Fazbear, scaling down in height and size. When you thought it had completely melted to the ground, a new _human_ figure stepped out.

"Hey..." Its humble voice said. 

 **His** voice.

"I'm sorry..." You skipped the greeting and went straight for the apology you owed Zan for years.

"I didn't mean to get you involved—"

"It's okay, man." He responded truthfully.

His image was pale and lacked any real color, like yours, but when his infamous jovial expression returned, he may as well have been shining radiantly. You wanted to ask how he was able to stick around, how he was able to keep the form of the Fredbear suit this whole time, but your answer was too simple to need explanation; 

Because he died in it. He died WITH it. He took his last breath while still cocooned in the dirty thing and his dead mind guessed that it was his image.

"I just wish I could've done more. If only I had known sooner..." He said.

"You couldn't have known. And..I didn't LET anybody know. It's **MY** fault...I got too attached to Him; to everything...He made me forget who I was. Literally." You confessed, feeling a world of mortification.

You had gotten attached to Peter and his fucked-up fake world to where it felt too normal to let go, and because of this too many lives were destroyed. Even from your own hands. You couldn't look back on it like a normal memory, but you were able to see bits and pieces. You could see glimpses of putting an end to someone's life brutally with your puppet fingers.

 _Did I really do that?_ You would find a single second to ask yourself and feel endless sorrow for the people you killed with your own hands.

You curled your fingers.

 _It wasn't the real "me". I was a monster because of Peter,_ you told yourself. Because it was only true... Peter was a monster, and he made others monsters. He made YOU one, and you in turn made Kayla and the other children one. You just hoped they wouldn't be getting fragments of the past lodged in their mind about it.

"The important thing is that we're here now and it's almost over with." Zan said.

He was right. It  _was_ almost over with. But you couldn't understand how he was able to just let go so freely, like the kids. Why was it only  **you** who still felt a thread of connection with everything here? A connection that didn't want to let go...

"Wasn't there someone else?" You asked, remembering there was another phantom who ran around as the tomb they perished in.

 _Because you were clumsy with a water bottle._ The thought badgered, but you ignored it.

"He already left." Zan confirmed in an empty voice. He just may have wanted the other person to stay, but he understood the quick departure. He just wanted to leave this place as soon as he could.

To be free.

"I know what you're wanting to do." He said, aware that you were desiring a closure, and he may have had a similar inclination.

"So then...where is he?" You asked.

"At the very end. He's not going anywhere." Zan replied and began following you.

You stopped only for a second when hearing something in the other room fall while succumbing to the building fire. It encouraged all of you to quicken your pace. As you passed more old drawings hanging up on the walls that once belonged to Fazbear's, it felt like you were coming to an end of a long adventure. This would be the last time you laid eyes on anything remotely related to the place that had changed your life.

But it was all negligible now. 

"Over there." He repeated when the four of you got close to a dead-end hallway, pointing with a finger.

Sure enough, the fiend himself was sitting on the floor, slumped against a fire exit. He didn't have the strength to stand back up and enter through to escape the roaming flames.

"Oh God..." You let slip when seeing the condition of the Bonnie suit.

_How the hell did that thing last for so long?_

It screamed its age with literal wear and tear running all over its body. You've only known it for being a vibrant yellow suit, intact and in proper order. Dingy a bit, but still in good shape. Now here it was, looking like it had been mauled by a wild animal. It could only be hell for a person if they had to wear it in its present condition.

 _A fitting tomb,_ you thought when imagining Peter's state inside of it. Another feeling of satisfaction tickled you when wondering how it felt for him to be inside of the thing when the spring-locks failed like it had done before in the past.

_Yes, you remembered that moment as well._

You kept yourself from smiling at it.

Before you could think about how to approach him, the rabbit's head twitched and rolled to the side, as if to fall off, looking directly in your path with its soulless blue eyes. The girls behind you gasped and took several steps back. Even **you** hesitated and almost thought about changing your mind when looking him in the eye with normal vision for the first time. Bonnie's exposed smiling teeth likely reflected on His current state of emotion.

_It's now or never._

You finally headed toward the pathetic slumping heap. The blue orbs for eyes followed you the whole way, delaying in reaction here and there. When stopping you were close enough to reach out and touch the black nose.

Being so near, you could now hear the whirring noises the thing made whenever he moved. You glanced back for a second.

Zan was expressionless and just waiting for you to get it over with while the two close friends hugged each other out of concern.

"It's okay." You told them.

"He can't hurt me. He can't hurt any of us anymore." You looked back at the beyond-withered character.

"Hi there, Peter." You started. It was a stupid way to greet a being like him after everything, but you didn't want to waste valuable time on finding an appropriate way to merely say hello. Even though he possibly knew what you were planning on, he was still struck with a fascination of seeing you again.

"Remember me?... Of course you do. You probably don't remember _them_ ," You jerked a thumb at the three behind you.

"but I know for sure you remember **me**." 

" **Ppp-Phuhhphhet**... **Myy Puppet** "

You heard the familiar voice mixed with a mechanical pseudo-one ripple out. It was close to making you livid.

"That's NOT my name; my name is  **[First Name]**. **[Full Name].** " You were blunt in rectifying him. It felt too damn good. You could hear him cough out a whirring laugh, but you paid no mind. You weren't going to let him taunt you in your final moments.

"And you took my life away from me. You took a lot of people's lives away from them. I'm just here to apologize to you—apologize for ever helping you out. For letting you take advantage of me because you felt like it. For ever giving you my loyalty."

You leaned in near the rabbit's face. The blue eyes stayed locked, the mouth forever grinned—a nice trait the suit shared with its wearer.

_Bet those teeth aren't so perfect and white now..._

A smirk found its way on you.

" **Don't y-you s-see? You're jusst like meee. We're the ss-same**." 

The half-smile left you. 

"Y'know, Pete..." You started, deciding on what words should be used.

"Out of every insult you've thrown at me, whether I was alive or dead, none of them can compare to what you just said now. Not even all together. You know why? Because I'm NOTHING like you!" You snapped.

" **You've k-killed...Don't lie.** " The machine creature said before a crackling whir. 

"Yeah. I've killed. I'll admit it. I killed when I was a fucking monster. A monster that YOU made. But you know what?...Even when I was one, I still had a decent purpose. A purpose that topped yours, and you were _alive_. It was to bring you to justice. No matter what it took. Unfortunately people died at my hands and _theirs_..." You pointed at trio far behind you again.

"But we've been forgiven for that. You see, that's the biggest difference between the two of us, Peter; I have remorse, I have empathy and morals. I know what's right and what's entirely wrong. I have a damn conscience, unlike you. All you know is manipulation and how to use it to your benefit. Even after death you're still the evil bastard you've always been."

Your eyes grazed the suit's condition once more. It was in such bad shape to where you could see the endoskeleton inside. However, Peter's physical remains were almost impossible to identify. Most of his bones from the neck below had all but disintegrated over time, leaving mainly his skull as the last thing from his body. You were hit with an image of those late-night TV zombies in horror movies. You could see the rabbit hissing and moaning just like those monsters. You almost expected to hear him express a desire for flesh and brains. 

 _No_ , you told yourself. _He just wants his Puppet, his possession._

"I..." You were almost on an autopilot. The last string that connected you and Peter was beginning to finally wear and break.

"I always thought...maybe there was a part of you...that cared. That truly cared. Even though you were a tyrant most of the time, I believed there was something positive in all that negative. With how many times you've defended me...and helped out. You... you actually made me..." You started out strong, but most of your confidence was lost in this confession. There was sheer shame in giving someone like Peter the benefit of the doubt.

You averted your gaze, unable to hold the stare. 

The monstrous animatronic gurgled another round of raw chortles.

" **Did I make you care about me?** "

No dry stutters this time. His voice was as clear as ever, rasp and all, like you were talking to his flesh in one piece. 

When seeing how amused he became, your ghastly teeth almost bared. He treated a piece of the fragile truth so poorly... Forget "tease", it was a straight-up savage mockery. 

The last string was broken; you stood back up and stepped away from the slouched body.

"Unfortunately I didn't learn until AFTER death that you were incapable of any positivity. Any care. Like I said, whatever you did, even if it FELT right at the time, it was all to YOUR benefit and no one else's. You had no loved ones or friends. Only possessions. You're a **Stockholm** is what you are, Peter, amongst many other things. Or should I say you _were_. You're nothing to me now." You said with returning tranquility. After all, there was no reason to become irate anymore.

The rabbit's smile would forever remain permanent—a hint to what He was feeling at this moment.

"I think...this is over permanently, Peter. Whatever special life we were gifted with won't be happening again. There isn't going to be any _third_ chances; It's the end. Playtime is over. For **all** of us. The only difference is...me and my loved ones will go one place, and I'm damned well sure you'll be going to another. We'll never be seeing you again. We'll forget about you and everything that's happened. And hey, maybe I'll see your cousin Doug when we're gone. Then again, maybe not. I kinda thought he was a good kid with clean hands. He did nothing to deserve the shit you put _him_ through. But who knows, I could be wrong. Maybe he had his secrets too. I'll find out soon."

You left the heap to himself. He had twitched a few times, mostly his head. For a second it seemed like he was attempting to stand back up by the way he was moving his shoulders, but his odd movement eventually stopped altogether, though his glowing blue eyes stayed on your image.

The fire was nearing.

"Give this to Victor for me," Was the last thing said to the evil monster behind you while throwing him your middle finger before returning to the waiting trio.

Shockingly, He made no calls for you or any other audible sounds. No begs, no pleas, no apologies of any kind that would've given him an atom-sized worth of redemption. He only let you keep walking uninterrupted. All with a smile on his face.

On both of them.

"Now what?" Cady asked as she huddled close and stared at the approaching flames creeping around the hallway.

"Now we enjoy the conclusion to our happiest day." You answered, grinning at the cheesy words, and looked at Zan.

His face was blank for a couple seconds before he put on a smile and you kindly returned it.

"Let's go." You told them, and the lot of you walked away from the building fire and disappeared at a far angle impossible for the living naked eye to see.

You left the inferno to engulf everything within the building, consuming all that Fazbear left behind. 

Free.

* * *

 

Author's note(Edited for the final time): 

Believe it or not, I planned on making this a first person-view story with an OC of mine. But as I got less than a quarter way through, I realized that many readers find OC's slashed with major characters rather boring. So I changed it to a ReaderX version to make it interesting. Someone mentioned that I could've kept it in first-person, but to me it still seemed iffy. I guess it's subjective. I've had the urge to rewrite this in first-person, but this is a novel-length piece. I simply do not have the time for that.  

 

And yeah, I'll admit that I could've done better with this and taken out a lot of excessive detail and make it much more simple, but we all learn from mistakes and (hopefully) improve in future works. So even though I've come to terms with myself on how the quality could've gone more tasteful, I'm still proud of myself for actually FINISHING a long project instead of just giving up and flushing so much work down the sh*tter like so many people do. Do I have any regrets? Of course. Only a little. Am I disappointed? No. It is what it is. 

With that I'm out


	98. *Extras

This time he wouldn't make you get shit-faced. This time he merely just wanted to let you unwind and be reminded of what it was like to feel peaceful and serene. He had done his workers' jobs again, cleaning off the tables, resetting them with fresh party hats and glitter, wiping down the stage and animatronics, taking out the piles of trash. 

You had to give him props for this; he was fast and did a hell of a job—a one-man team. You noticed he was less tense without his crew, despite finishing what they were paid to do. He seemed relaxed, even. 

He had cracked open a bottle of booze for you without any fancy shots or stronger alcohol to go with it. Realizing there was no catch to this, you eventually accepted the generous gift and sat down at a clean party table. When finished, Peter joined you with his own bottle. 

He tilted his chair back, keeping a foot on the edge of the table. His lavender clothes were a little ragged from all the labor, but there wasn't a care in the world; it was relax time. 

For a while it was awkward, tense silence, at least for you. This soft side of his was always foreign.

He finally got to talking when cracking open his second. At first it was only satisfied hums, then he started with random questions. 

What's it like..." He began. He wasn't looking at you. Instead he was transfixed on one of the character posters all the way across the dining area near the hallway to The Room. 

"...to be adopted?" He took a gulp from the dark bottle. You'd glance at him when he started talking, then feel a mild sizzle of annoyance after hearing the inquiry. 

But your temper would subside when noticing there was no derision in his voice, only sincere interest. Alcohol must've hit him fast, for his miasmic aura, the one dominating aspect of him that everyone felt, had dissipated, washed away by the booze. His expressions were more of deep fascination than apathetic. 

Your fingers prodded the amber bottle, trying to register all this and come up with an answer. You could've ignored him, but those retorts were usually saved for when he was being an asshole. For now, there was an abnormal zen between the two of you; the scene mimicked two buds in a bar, chatting away about nothing and sharing stories. 

Finally you spoke:

"Wouldn't really know. You took me before news got out in my family." 

It was more snarky than intended, but there was truth to it. 

You saw a tiny smile find its way on his face as he kept his stare at nothing. Then it wilted. 

"C'mon," He said.

"You have to at least see them somewhat differently." He tilted his head back, gazing at the ceiling's party streamers. You thought he'd lose balance like this and fall. He never did. Even when tipsy he had good reflexes. 

"They're good people and they raised me. As far as I know, I'm still their son." There was defense in your voice. Peter either didn't notice or just glossed over it. 

You took a swig and gazed at the colorful-patterned carpet.  

"I hear that a lot from people who were adopted." He said, bringing his head back forward. 

"There's gotta be more interest to it than just that." He chugged half the bottle down too eagerly. 

"Despite what people say, blood ain't thicker than water." You said and almost surprised yourself. It was rather noble, you thought your parents would feel pride in this answer; proud of you. A warmth heated up your gut and you had to suppress it, least you wanted to feel too emotional—it was a waste when the other person had no empathy. 

"Figured you would've found out sooner, or at least start wondering. I mean, you look nothing like them!" Peter's surreal teeth were visible, drawing most attention as usual. You stopped yourself from scowling; now it was time to ignore him. 

"I don't see why you don't count yourself as lucky. You come from a rich, powerful family." He said, setting his bottle on the table.  

"Don't really care," You answered, taking another drink. You were close to finishing it. 

"That's weird." He said, resting the back of his head on his hands and tilting back even further. His balance was impressive. 

"Power is everything." He added and took a deep breath, letting it out in a low moan. 

"Probably a good thing I wasn't raised by my real parents; it's clear they'd focus more on their business than family." You told him, while thinking back on the news articles that explained everything. Not even Fred wanted to be bothered by a nephew who would cost him his business. 

You stared at a hanging streamer swinging gracefully in the A.C. You didn't want to pass judgment on someone you've never met, but you also found it easy to assume your real folks wouldn't have had the time to properly bond with you, making you grow up like those rich, snobby kids who only had their money to brag about, nothing sentimental or worth remembering, no family events or even pictures taken to capture a loving moment instead of just to keep an image. 

_Rich..._

The word was an interest to you some time ago, when you were younger. Who in the world _didn't_ want to be in that category? It didn't seem as interesting now, not when experiencing what reality can really do. You just wanted your family back; not biological, just your loving family who rais—

"What about _your_ family?" The question pushed passed your lips without full thought. 

Peter shot a confused glance. 

"Doug and Victor?"

"Your **parents**." You clarified, only to feel strange. Out of the long months of being here, you never once thought about Peter's own folks; the people responsible for creating such a human. 

His expression emptied, and you thought he took offense, but then a grin formed. 

"Those guys..." He said a little quiet, voice low with rasp. 

"I tend to keep more memories of my ma." He shared.

"Why's that?" You asked, having a far guess that his father might just have abused him. It could possibly explain things.

Possibly. 

"She was a special woman. Could send any man into love fast. She had looks; statuesque beauty. My favorite thing about her was...her mouth. She had a wonderful smile and...perfect teeth." Peter shared, his eyes swimming in fascination again. He was too deep in his memories to pull out. 

"Liked wearing her incredibly long, silky hair in a ponytail. Probably how I got into it; she put mine up whenever I started growing it out at a young age. Never had the desire to get it buzzed short after that."

"Mommy's smile. How adorable." You jested and finished your booze. 

"Yeah...y'know, in spite of what I say about them, I've heard females are the ones to pass down intelligence to their offspring." Peter set his chair down on all four legs, grabbing his bottle again. A bit of the table's glitter confetti had come off and stuck to the bottom.

"It's one theory about them I actually believe. Like I said, she was special; an exception. Knew what to say and how to wrap someone around her finger. I don't call her attractive for nuthin... She also taught me crucial skills; combat, leadership, things like that." He said.

"What about your father." You brought up. This time there was a different expression on him, one of shame. Then a frown before it lifted itself to a weak smile.

"Not anything impressive other than his build. Brawn doesn't make up for brains though." Peter's smile grew more grotesque as he searched his memory. 

"Could definitely tell he was jealous of his brother, Vic and Doug's father. I'd like to think he and my ma had a bit more going on behind the curtains." His teeth flashed again. 

"Can't confirm it though." He said. 

"What happened to them?" You were actually curious. His dark eyes traveled to the sprinkled tablecloth below. 

"Don't remember too much other than something went wrong; my guess is something with the business, and personal conflicts. So she took matters into her own hands."

There was no need to ask what he meant. He brought his index finger to his jugular and slid it across, curling it all the way up to his ear, all the while smiling. You felt a little chilled, but a part of you expected this, expected something dark about his family.   

"She ever get caught?" Was all you thought about asking. 

"Not exactly," he tilted his chair again. 

"It's very easy to make a murder look like a suicide when everyone's blinded by controversy." He said, and his shadowy complexion returned.

"So where is she now?" You asked.

"Just told you, moron." He answered. Finally you understood, and a heavy, cold fear traveled up your hands and feet to your chest. 

"Guess I got many things from her." He said, and snorted a dark giggle before finishing everything in the amber bottle.


	99. *Extras(2)

You gazed at the cupcake set in front of you by Him. Its frosting was blue, as opposed to the other shade used for the opposite gender that he tended to tease you with. Decorated on it were light sprinkles of many colors. It was topped with a single multicolored candle, staked into the middle and swallowed up by a cream of sugary blue. 

You had rested at a table after the day was over, still storing Peter's words said to you only twenty-four hours ago. You, performing 'til the end of time, no matter what became of Fazbear's in the future. You weren't human anymore; you were a living character without prerogative, he couldn't have made this anymore clear. 

There was the hiss of a burning match. Peter hovered it over the dry wick until the flame passed on. 

"Make a wish." He said before gently blowing out the match. Your vision migrated and caught the lingering smoke before focusing on the man's dark eyes. He gave his signature smile. You were silent, almost monotonous. 

"I know what you're thinking," He spoke.

"You're thinking; 'has it really been this long? All these parties and antics to where I lost track of time?' Well yes, Puppet. It really has been a year. Time flies by when you're having fun, huh?" He chortled and turned away, heading back to his office and shutting you and everything else out for the billionth time. 

You were pulled back to the bright flame topping the pastry like a redolent star. The unbidden reminder of turning another year older washed over. You were barren of excitement or opinion. It didn't matter. Characters didn't get birthdays. Characters were workers, slaves. Their sentiences weren't of value, not when they only lived for one job, while time ticked away their days and years until everything rusted to the ground—

_NO!_

The word kicked, and you found yourself violently flinging a hand out, swiping the cupcake off the table and sending it to travel several feet. A warped fantasy played out in your mind like a short film; the candle's flame gaining power and freedom when meeting the carpet, spreading fast, maturing. It would grow, and you wouldn't dare put it out. It would travel across the dining area, gaining speed and strength as it devoured the table cloths and party hats, reaching enough height to lick the streamers and spark them colorfully. It wouldn't be too difficult to ignite the curtains and engulf the characters; everything looked flammable enough, anyway. All would succumb and convert to charcoal, the chairs and tables melting like wax. 

That was a nice thought; the decor ashes and the characters dressed with a burnt, crispy undertone. From there the flames would take over the entire building, trapping Peter in his precious office and securing him in the hell he deserved, the entire building a pyre for all characters and dark deeds ever to be in Fazbear's. 

A good inferno was just alright, and whether you were included with it or not was up to fate. You were okay with either-or, really. As long as everything and all perished in flames...

The tiny flame had gone out before the pastry could even meet the floor in a messy blue splatter, and the remnants of what could've been floated upwards in a thin string of grey smoke, reaching the ceiling and dispersing. 

You stood up, panting and nearly sweating, and inspected the mess. Then you glanced over to where the office was . . .


End file.
